


Enter the Complimentary Follow-up

by Dr_Cat



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bunkers, Dropships, Energon Generator, Friendship, Gen, Medical Trauma, Options, Seekers, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Cat/pseuds/Dr_Cat
Summary: Some friendships are timeless, others are for a season, but for one warrior and medic, it's a mystery.orA story on how Knock Out and Breakdown met for the second time.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All the characters involved in this story are copyrighted to Hasbro and their respective creators and were used without permission. All concepts in this writing reflect the author's ideas and not that of the copyright.

As the distinct whistle of mortar fire pierced the air, a trembling mech hunkered further underneath a clinical table awaiting the inevitable explosion.

It came as expected.

The shiny, red cybertronian covered his audiles as the building shook with such force the walls were left vibrating long after the shells landed. It was incredible the windows hadn't shattered yet.

"Please, stop," he pleaded in vain as more projectiles shrilled through the night sky. He was quite accustomed to the sound of distant artillery blasts and laser volleys—just the commonplace clatter of a planet at war—but being trapped inside a blockhouse near the highly coveted Vos' relics during a firefight between the Autobots and Decepticons had his survival protocols keyed up to the max. Grant it, he had chosen this line of work for its excitement factor, but he never signed up for this.

In fact, he shouldn't even be here. He was supposed to meet up with a nonaligned medical team near Uraya, but circumstance—and the possibility of a lucrative prospect—led him here. It was supposed to be a simple, get-in-get-out assignment. Just patch a few bots, grab a few parts through _questionable_ means, and head back to the safety of neutral territory. Unfortunately, no one on either side of the conflict got that memo.

"Why couldn't they wait one more cycle; just one more lousy cycle?" he hissed as another barrage of shells violently rocked the facility. This time, the windows did buckle, raining down glass and fiery debris on the center's workstations and examining berths. The symphony of combat rushed in tenfold at the breach causing the young medic to wince. Soldiers screaming, cannons firing, sirens wailing, leaders shouting, engines roaring . . . it was all he could do not to fold in on himself in a fetal position. What on Cybertron had he gotten himself into?!

With the heat levels increasing due to the newly broken windows and his own heavy venting, he decided it was time to try and escape. He had hoped remaining in the medical wing of this old fort would have afforded him some protection. Certainly, the Decepticons would keep defending this area fiercely and if the Autobots did break through he could easily sell his worth as a physician to them. However, neither scenario mattered if the annex was destroyed in the battle; just another case of collateral damage. That's what appeared to be playing out.

He crawled out from under the desk, visibly shaking, and trying to stabilize his wildly thrashing spark. As he rose to his pedes, the lights went out and he happened to glance up just in time to see the blistering trails of missiles flying past. It felt so surreal and yet so tangible to him; the timeless sights of war were disturbingly mesmerizing.

Suddenly, the once automated doors to the room were forced open. He whirled around, servos thrust upwards in surrender. With all the terror of life and death in his voice, he cried out:

"Don't shoot! I'm a medic!"

There was a charged moment of silence in the dark until the emergency lighting flickered to life.

"Doc? Is that you?" asked the much taller, bulkier mech standing in the now open doorway. A look of recognition passed over the medic's features; a mix of relief and resentment. He was glad for the familiar face, but this bruiser was one of the reasons he was caught in this whole mess, to begin with—not to mention the big lug seemed to have an unjustified aversion to using his name. Nonetheless, it was amazing how quickly abject terror could switch to indignant aggravation.

"I said to call me Knock Out and of course it's me! Who else would it be?!"

"Sorry! I just wasn't expecting you to still be here."

"Granted, but if you haven't noticed, I'm just trying to stay online here!"

"I can see that. Might have helped if you stuck with me and the others in the first place."

"Right, and if I had just left you to sort things out on your own I wouldn't be in this mess _in the first place_. I am the only doctor in these parts still willing to help the likes of you, I might add."

"And I'm very grateful. That's why I'm here to take you back to the Decepticon bunker," the other mech said with no bitterness in his tone.

"Wait? The bunker?! What bunker? I thought you and the others said you weren't affiliated with any faction," Knock Out shouted in a mix of anger and renewed fear. He'd heard all about Decepticon bunkers. Highly fortified, underground storehouses reserved only for the most precious of resources and once locked down, no way in or out. Something about being whisked away to some cavernous warehouse rubbed his sense of freedom entirely the wrong way.

"I didn't say anything. You never asked," the larger bot said solemnly.

"Oh," Knock Out uttered, before continuing, "how rude of me."

"Well, are you coming or not?"

The medic hesitated. He may have sympathized with the war's cause, but he had no intention of joining their ranks. He was an agent of his own volition; not a possible commodity to be retained in their conflict. He needed to find a way out of this and fast.

"Please, Breakdown, was it? I'm really only a bodywork specialist at best; nothing that important. Couldn't you just, say, get me out of here and point me in the direction of the nearest transport road?"

"Sure, if you don't mind running through twenty-five clicks of strike-zone to reach it," Breakdown said wryly.

Well, there went that idea along with any hope of peaceful escape. Another shower of blaster fire sounded outside and Knock Out could feel his frame shaking again.

"I shouldn't have come here. I could have left sooner . . . ow!" Knock Out hollered as Breakdown gave an audial shattering whistle.

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda but you didn't, doc. So, unless you wanna become scrap metal, I suggest you move your aft and follow me," he interrupted.

Knock Out's red optics flashed in a moment of insult, but the whine of incoming rocket fire convinced him to drop the offense and chase after the blue mech retreating through the entranceway. They jogged down the darkened corridors, cautiously rounding corners and avoiding the electrical shorts sputtering from control panels and lighting fixtures. There seemed to be no one else around which began to draw out the medic's anxiety in the form of nervous mumbling. Apparently sensing the other's growing distress, Breakdown spoke up.

"Everyone's out front keeping the pressure off the dropships. I'll take you to the south exit. It should be less heavy out that way . . ."

Knock Out nodded absent-mindedly. He was more in tune with the muffled sounds of battle outside and the occasional pops and pings of the structure's integrity under siege, though Breakdown's even timbre did bring a sense of normalcy with it. At any rate, Knock Out didn't care where they went just as long as it was far away from here. However, once his hefty companion mentioned a particular name the distracted medic was all audiles.

"Pardon me, did you just say Megatron?! As in, _the leader_ of the Decepticons?! What about him now?!"

"I just said Lord Megatron really wants to hang on to this sector. Looks like the Autobots want it just as badly," Breakdown grumbled as he lifted another fallen support beam from their path before smiling at his new strength. The doctor had really done a wonderful job on these upgrades.

"So, in other words, this whole place is doomed to scrap," Knock Out stated bluntly as the building shook from another explosion.

"Uh . . ."

"Well, what are we idling here for?! Let's make like traffic and jam!" the medic shouted as he charged past the azure mech towards their intended exit. Breakdown shuttered his yellow optics as he stood and watched Knock Out bound away. He was somewhat surprised to see how lithe the doctor was. It wasn't every solar cycle you saw someone execute a perfect pike jump through two and a half meters of clearance. Ultimately, he gave a quick shrug, dropped the beam, and trailed after the smaller mech with the shiny, red paint job.

It did take some finagling on both their parts to get around the debris and fires surrounding the outer walls of the complex, but the real obstacle came when they reached the compound's south gate. Right behind the postings, stood a giant cannon, battering the wall with shot and trying to make a way in.

"You didn't say anything about _that_ blocking the exit! How are we supposed to get through fifty tons of firepower?!" Knock Out cried in a mixture of fear and frustration. Breakdown looked on as the large doors barricading the base shuddered with every blast from the mortar fire.

"They said the Autobot troops hadn't broken through yet. They were holding them off!" Breakdown stated in his own blend of emotion; mainly anger.

" _They_ said?! Sorry, but who are you talking about?" Knock Out asked, but Breakdown wasn't listening. Instead, he placed a servo to his helm and pinged his troop leader.

All he received was static.

If the enemy was out this far it could only mean one of two things about the squadron he was assigned to. Either they abandoned him or they were dead. Neither scenario sat well with the newly transferred warrior. His temper flared. The Autobots hadn't spotted the two of them yet and as far as Breakdown was concerned, that was their mistake.

"Did you hear me . . . Yah?!" Knock Out yelped as he quickly dodged out of his charging companion's way. Breakdown's servos instantly transformed into hammers; weapons drawn. He was ready to do battle the only way he knew how; head-on.

And he would have perished if it hadn't been for seven words hinged to change that.

"What are you doing?! Get back here!"

Breakdown stopped just short of punching through the gates and turned. The frightened medic was still holding his position—as far away from those gates as possible.

Knock Out was the reason Breakdown had come back out here, to begin with; his prime mission. The larger mech stalked back towards the physician, eyes narrowed and hammers still at the ready. The doctor couldn't help but fleetingly wonder if he unwittingly treated the mech who was going to offline him.

"I need to get you to that bunker, don't I?!" Breakdown said in such a cold manner, Knock Out could feel the energon pulsing through his lines drop a few degrees. The medic shuddered a bit but held his ground. Normally, he wouldn't have dared, but the overstimulating background of combat and his own tremendous stress levels triggered a visceral response. He, too, narrowed his optics and looked Breakdown squarely in his.

"Excuse me, but how exactly are you planning on helping me survive after getting yourself killed because that's what you were about to do; get yourself killed!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the whole of battle roaring around them. Breakdown paused at the medic's tone.

Sure he had been reprimanded by all sorts before; superiors, peers, even subordinates. They normally sounded angry or disappointed in an unsympathetic kind of way— just business as usual. He was used to it; unfazed by it. That's why he never listened to any of them, why he had been reassigned three times, why he was so guarded with his current station.

This, however, was the first time his admonisher sounded like they actually cared . . . about him. Now, it could have been because the little red bot was a doctor; doctors tended to care. Breakdown also understood Knock Out appeared to be a bit green; not used to raw combat—the poor mech was shivering like a regulator for Primus' sake—but something about that made Knock Out appear real; relatable; reliable.

So, even though the medic had no official authority over the soldier whatsoever, Breakdown exchanged his hammers for servos. Knock Out took this to be as close to an agreement as he was going to get.

"Right! Okay, I think we should find another way out of here! Let's say, that direction," the red mech suggested as he took off back towards the structure. Breakdown followed as Knock Out ran in a much less organized fashion than before. It would have been comical had the setting not been so dire. Foregoing the entrance back inside, the medic swung around the building and stopped short of what appeared to be a service door for the backup generators—a bizarre place to stop.

"How's this going to help us?!" Breakdown questioned, honestly confused by the brilliant smile lighting up the smaller mech's features.

"Open the door and I'll show you."

"Fine. Stand back!" Breakdown yelled as he moved forward and grasped the locked sliding panels of the door. With one quick pull, he separated the two sections by a few meters. Another tug and the door opened completely.

"Now what?"

"Have you ever seen what happens to an energon generator after you've reversed its current?" Knock Out shouted as he grabbed the polarity switch. Breakdown took one look at the complicated, overloaded power system before turning back to the now beaming medic.

"Have you?!"

"Not personally, but I hear it creates one swell of an explosion if ever there was one!" Knock Out exclaimed as he yanked out the pull switch, rotated it, and pushed it back in. Immediately, the generators began to hum; the sound slowly eating up the blaring chaos of war surrounding the two bots. Breakdown was genuinely frightened by the noise and nearly jumped when the medic shouted:

"Drive!"

Like a shot, Knock Out took off, transforming into his ground-based cybertronian alternative mode and going full speed in the opposite direction. Breakdown wasted no time following suit in his own ground-based alternative mode as thick blue and white smoke began pouring from the service door. The two vehicles rounded a security outpost just as the energy levels reached a critical point.

The initial bursts were blinding, causing them to transform back into their root forms and shield their optics. Several more upsurges of electricity buzzed throughout the air, resulting in the combat fire outside the compound's walls to calm dramatically. The last explosion engulfed the structure in a furnace of flames, bringing on the silence of the Autobot cannon at the south gate. Breakdown made a move to stand fully until Knock Out spoke up.

"Wait for it," the medic said as he expectantly looked towards the night sky. To the larger mech's surprise, the commotion of battle began moving away from the now smoldering complex.

"Hear that? It's the sound of success!" Knock Out said with a grin as he rose to his pedes. Breakdown did the same, but still wore a look of bewilderment as he glanced down at the red bot. The medic gladly elaborated.

"A blazing inferno equals nothing to fight over and nothing to fight over translates into move it along."

"Yeah, but the building and supplies, not to mention the energon . . ." Breakdown stated as he turned to watch the structure burn. Knock Out shrugged.

"It's not like the place was worth saving. It was a scrap pile, to begin with. Now, let's get out of here before all this ash ruins my finish."

Breakdown let out a pressurized vent. This guy was a trip.

"Alright. Our best bet is still due south. The bunker is only five clicks from there."

Knock Out frowned. It seemed his former patient turned unwelcomed chaperon was still fixated on sealing him away in some Decepticon basement.

"Why can't you just help me get out of here and let me be on my way again?"

"Because it's safer in the bunker than out here and General Onslaught insisted I bring you there."

Knock Out's frown deepened. An officially endorsed request for his detainment? Maybe it was time to split. After all, the fighting had moved off and he could probably find that transport road on his own now.

"I see," he stated with a renewed smile, trying to sound nonchalant. Regrettably, he also took an unconscious step back. Breakdown's optics narrowed at the gesture as he realized the medic was poised to run.

"Oh, no you don't, doc . . . Doc!" he shouted as he dashed after Knock Out who dropped back into vehicular mode. Breakdown quickly copied the move and gave chase. The smaller red cybertronian car had speed on his side, but the sheer power behind the blue cybertronian truck shortened the gap between them quickly. Knock Out tried desperately to outperform his slower, less maneuverable pursuer but Breakdown's large tires gave the warrior an advantage over the unstable terrain.

"Watch the paint!" Knock Out squawked as the other came dangerously close to ramming his rear bumper.

"Well, stop driving away already!" Breakdown shouted in equal frustration.

"No! I'm not going with you!" Knock Out shouted as he drifted left, leaving Breakdown to crash into a sizable piece of rubble.

The red vehicle smiled inwardly as he finally outpaced his chaser, but the victory was short-lived. Terror gripped him as he witnessed the larger vehicle blast straight through the wreckage with the truck's roof-mounted cannon—a cannon the medic had outfitted with long-range capabilities. It seemed to dawn on him then. There was no way he could outdo a militarily armed bot like Breakdown, at least, not like this. Knock Out applied his brakes, transformed, and skid fifty meters across the ashen ground on two pedes and a servo. Breakdown barely had time to stop, forcing him to transform and fall on his backside in order to avoid colliding with the smaller mech who was now busy brushing himself off.

"Why'd you stop?!" Breakdown demanded angrily as he made to stand back up.

"Didn't you ask me to?" Knock Out said as he watched the other rise. Breakdown glared at him and the doctor lifted his servos in surrender.

"My apologies, I've just never been in this kind of situation before. Nice shot with the cannon, by the way. Glad to see it's working properly, but, I believe your suspension may be a tad on the stiff side. Here's what I'll do; look me up in Uraya and I'll give you a follow-up appointment on the house. How does that sound?"

Breakdown let out an irritated vent and Knock Out sighed before continuing.

"Alright, but I don't even know who this Onslaught character is. Why would he order you to take me anywhere?"

Despite the medic's attempts at appearing unruffled, Breakdown could still hear the anxious undertone in the other's vocalizer. He felt bad for Knock Out. Fear was no stranger to Breakdown and he understood what it meant to feel small and powerless. After all, it's the reason he joined the Decepticons . . . maybe a reason for the medic to join too. So, the warrior tried to ease the current tension by taking a less imposing stance.

"I know this isn't easy, doc . . ." Breakdown started until he noticed the other's narrowing gaze, "I mean, Knock Out, but I think they just want to talk with you. Onslaught seemed impressed by your work."

The medic crossed his arms and looked to the ground for a moment. He stamped his right ped a few times before looking up at Breakdown again.

"And what if I refuse to go with you?" he asked quietly.

"I could make you," Breakdown answered frankly, causing Knock Out to shift uncomfortably, "but I won't."

"Really?!" the medic said with so much relief and enthusiasm, the other couldn't help but smile.

"Sure. But, I'll be punished and they'll probably send someone else to come out here and get you," Breakdown responded casually. Knock Out brought his arms down and behind his back, clasping his servos together. He began pacing in a small circle with agitation written all over his faceplates.

"Well, it looks like I don't have much of a choice, now does it?"

Breakdown shrugged. Having only met Knock Out twice, each time being under threatening circumstances, Breakdown found the other to be fairly likable.

"You also said they were impressed by my work. A good thing, right?" Knock Out questioned again. Breakdown gave a short nod. The medic stopped pacing and let out a mix between a sigh and a grumble.

"Fine, let's get this over with then."


	2. Chapter 2

Breakdown thought for sure the highly spirited medic would have put up more resistance once they got underway, but he was thoroughly surprised by the amount of cooperation he received. True to his word, Knock Out hadn't tried to slip off during their journey—not even once. It wasn't something he was used to. However, as soon as the doors to the bunker came into view, all that wonderful compliance started to dissipate. Breakdown watched as the young physician slowed down and transformed into bipedal mode; the look of uncertainty plain as a solar flare on his white faceplates. The larger mech swiftly lifted into his own root form and took a few measured steps towards the doctor.

"Well, here we are."

"I can see that," Knock Out snapped anxiously before quickly retorting, "Definitely not the most impressive piece of architecture, is it?"

Breakdown didn't quite know what to respond with on that. How could someone go from apprehension to sass so quickly? He didn't get long to ponder that as the red mech spoke up again.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You're the reason I'm being brought here for my safety?"

"Kind of, yeah," Breakdown answered carefully. He suspected there was going to be a follow-up question to that one. He was right.

"So, isn't there a way for you to call this off? I mean, I'm safe now and I'm pretty sure I can make my way back to Uraya . . ."

"I'm sorry, Knock Out, but they ordered I bring you here. I don't get to make final decisions," Breakdown answered truthfully.

"I see."

"You're not thinking about running away again, are you?" the warrior asked. Knock Out gave a curt laugh.

"Aren't I?"

There was a short moment of silence before Breakdown cleared his vocalizer.

"So, are you ready to meet Onslaught?"

"If I say no, can I leave?" Knock Out asked in a sarcastic drawl. He wanted to stall this process as long as possible. If he had just a little more time to think, maybe he could find a way out of this. He really didn't want to go into that bunker.

"If you'd like to run from an angry squadron. I'm pretty sure surveillance has picked us up by now," Breakdown stated in a matter of fact tone. Knock Out let out a laugh that could have passed for a cry. Of course, there were cameras; there were always cameras . . .

Then something occurred to the doctor. Was it a good thing Breakdown was being this forthcoming? After all, Knock Out was a noncombatant. The war never did look favorably upon the uninvolved; clinically trained or otherwise. What would the Decepticons want with a _non-aligned_ medic? Was he really safe here, was he about to walk into some kind of bizarre trap, or was this a play for his allegiance? His services?

He took in a large vent, trying to calm his racing processor. He couldn't afford to panic; not now, it would only make things worse. He needed to keep his faculties about him if he wanted to get out of this on top and, more importantly, alive. Composing his thoughts, he nodded.

"Fine, let's proceed, shall we?"

He took a few poised steps forward before quickly noticing Breakdown wasn't following. He immediately thought why not? Up until this point, the big bruiser had practically been an unshakable shadow. Knock Out turned back with a look of impatience.

"Well?"

"My orders were to bring you to the bunker, not to accompany you inside. I still need to report back to my unit and find out what happened to the others," Breakdown said with slight hesitation. Knock Out's optics widened dramatically. So much for not panicking.

"Are you serious?!"

Breakdown looked at him incredulously, prompting the smaller bot to reevaluate his demeanor. He hadn't meant to react so strongly, but the thought of continuing this venture alone terrified him. He couldn't quite put a digit on it, especially since Breakdown had placed him in this predicament, to begin with, but he felt much safer having the other around than not. Nevertheless, he needed to remain sensible about this.

"I mean, don't you know how rude it is to abandon a guest? The least you could do is see me inside," Knock Out stated evenly, trying to enlist the other's accompaniment with a bit of guilt. He looked for any sign that he had changed Breakdown's mind. All he got was a quirked optic ridge. He needed to come up with something more reasonable; more appealing.

"Well, wouldn't this Onslaught know something about your unit? You should ask him, right?"

That did the trick, but for entirely different reasons than Knock Out believed. Breakdown had been giving the whole situation a bit more thought. All he'd done was briefly mention Knock Out's presence in the area and what the doctor had done for him. Next thing he knew, General Onslaught was requesting Knock Out be brought back immediately. As far as he understood it, medics weren't all that imperative to the Decepticon cause. It wasn't that they were against medicine, but Megatron frowned severely upon weakness. The need for medical assistance typically pulled one away from what the leader considered to be a glorious death on the battlefield and was thus seen as pitiful in the former gladiator's optics.

So, even though he may not have been the brightest mech—something others constantly reminded him of—Breakdown could see something was off here. Honestly, he didn't know if Knock Out would be safe and the doctor had trusted him to come this far. It bothered him enough to make a decision.

"Well?" Knock Out needled again.

"Mm. Alright," Breakdown conceded, not missing the other's sigh of relief.

"You're a good mech, Breakdown. Don't let them tell you any different."

The larger mech couldn't help but smile at the remark. He knew he made the right choice.

The two began walking towards the entrance, fully aware the doors to the bunker were slowly opening. As soldiers began pouring out, Breakdown noticed the medic's behavior shifted. Gone were all traces of apprehension. A steady gait, confident posture, and easy-going smile all pointed to a deliberate attempt on Knock Out's part to appear undaunted.

A blue and gray mech broke away from the rest of the troop and approached the pair, causing them to stop.

"Breakdown. So, this is the reason you're still online?" the mech asked, glancing down at Knock Out in disapproval. The doctor calmly regarded the other back. In all his experience, the medic found first impressions to be vitally important. Obviously, this mech didn't give a scrap about things like that.

"Nice to meet you, too. I'm Knock Out, by the way. I hear a General Onslaught would like to speak with me," Knock Out stated professionally; amicably. The blue and gray mech sneered and looked back up towards Breakdown for more clarification.

"It's true. This is him, Air Leader Thundercracker," Breakdown said with a nod.

"Well, seems you ground-pounders finally did something right for a change," the officer quipped, fanning out his wings to better demonstrate his alternative jet form. The few snickers from the aerial soldiers behind him served to bring a smug smirk to the air leader's face. Knock Out found himself even more irritated by this character. What gave him the right to be so rude?

"Excuse me, _sir_ , but I'd prefer to chat inside where it's safe from any stray blaster fire if you don't mind?" Knock Out deadpanned. The officer's optics tapered briefly before returning to normal.

"I'll take him from here," Thundercracker said with the most unsettling smile Knock Out had ever seen. The medic was also becoming more aware of the other soldiers walling him in. This was shaping up to be a nightmare.

Automatically, Knock Out glanced at Breakdown; optics silently searching for support. All he got was an expressionless, orange face gazing back at him. For a moment, the medic thought he was on his own, but, just as he looked away in defeat, Breakdown spoke up.

"Air Leader, I was thinking about bringing Knock Out to Onslaught myself," he said in a voice that didn't leave much room for argument. The officer's optics narrowed in anger as the medic's beamed with triumph.

"What?! Who are you to start thinking? Weren't you assigned to the Gamma Quadrant? You should be back at your post with the others by now," Thundercracker snapped vehemently. Breakdown shrank back but Knock Out leaned forward. He was put off by this mech's unpleasantness, especially since Breakdown was doing him a favor.

"That's why he needs to see General Onslaught. He can't get in touch with the others, so, if you don't mind, _Thunder_ , why don't we carry on already," the medic said coolly, not missing the astonished whispers of the troops around them. Breakdown's optics widened in shock. Thundercracker let out a sharp vent of indignation before quickly glaring Knock Out down.

"Hopefully, you're worth the trouble, _doctor_ , because if not, I'll be taking care of you personally," he threatened before turning around and gesturing for them to follow. Breakdown hadn't expected Knock Out to be so audacious, especially with a commanding officer. But, he had to admit, the look on the air leader's face was hilarious. With a small grin, Breakdown trailed behind Knock Out who was walking confidently after an irritated Thundercracker through the now parted crowd of Decepticon fighters. However, despite his outward boldness, Knock Out's processor was reeling.

From his perspective, he felt this could go one of two ways. Either he was on the cusp of entering a new opportunity or on the verge of making a fatal mistake; a real fifty-fifty here. He always found it amazing how alike excitement and terror felt once faced with risk and reward situations. It was a feeling he was familiar with but he also knew it made gauging one's responses more difficult. He didn't have the advantage of knowing why they wanted to speak with him. All he had in his favor was what he always had; his delightful self-assurance. It was his only defense now . . . or so he thought.

As they crossed the threshold into the bunker, Knock Out took in the dimly-lit, claustrophobically-narrow hallway with ceilings so low Breakdown had to duck down in order to navigate the space. The stale atmosphere and loud noises radiating from the tomb-like enclosure caused the red mech's plating to shudder in revulsion. It triggered another default defense setting; sarcasm.

"I'm absolutely loving this rustic interior and intimate décor. Can't wait to see what the rest of the place looks like."

Thundercracker paused his stride but didn't bother to turn around. Breakdown allowed a look of surprise to cross his faceplates. Knock Out felt a certain thrill seize him as he took in their reactions. There was something intoxicatingly empowering about shocking others, especially when in such a powerless position. Crazy as it might seem, it made the medic feel in control. However, he didn't expect what happened next. Thundercracker laughed. A brief, twisted laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"So, you have a sense of humor. Good. You'll need it. We'll all need it."

The Air Leader continued his walk, leaving Knock Out to ponder the statements. They were a further glimpse of what they wanted from him; his enlistment. The medic hesitated long enough to collect his courage before persisting forward; Thundercracker none the wiser. However, the pause didn't escape Breakdown's notice.

He knew the cybertronian before him didn't want to be here. He knew the guy had been terrified just moments before. He knew the mech had a right to be in complete and utter turmoil. But, despite all that, Knock Out kept a buoyant, assertive air about him. There was also no doubt the medic was trying to figure a way out of this mess or, at least, that's the impression Breakdown got anyhow. He could see the doctor's helm tilt this way and that as if mapping out their route and trying to keep track of how many turns they were making. So, polite, composed, and attentive; quite the combination of traits to possess. Breakdown briefly wondered what else the medic ahead of him was capable of.

As the three walked on, Knock Out noticed the corridors were gradually becoming larger—Breakdown could now stand to full height—and the lighting had improved. It helped him feel less trapped, but it reinforced the notion he was heading towards the point of no return. Grant it, from what he understood, the Decepticons were against the very caste system which tended to hold him down. Like himself, they believed in change and a better distribution of power. If anything, this could be a chance for him to move up in the world, but then there was that small detail; the war.

He'd seen enough to know he didn't want to have anything to do with it but wasn't he already involved? It seemed the whole planet was up in arms, choosing sides and destroying each other. What small pockets of neutral territory did remain only served as new battlegrounds for the Autobots and Decepticons. So, why not join the fight? Though a part of him longed for the more peaceful, prosperous side of their current society, he couldn't deny that he hated the present order of things; mainly because he couldn't enjoy that peaceful, prosperous side legally. But, wasn't he happy now? After all, he'd found his own way of beating the system and it was working rather fantastically. Why mess with a good thing going?

He needed to come up with an answer to that question sooner rather than later because they were now entering an assemblage of some kind. Troops similar to those at the entrance lined the walls, listening to an enormous mech at the head of the room who Knock Out could only describe as nightmare-inducing.

The Decepticon looked to be some sort of missile carrier as evidenced by the dual-cannons and huge tires making up portions of his alternative form, not to mention the heavily armored plating. What really set Knock Out on edge though was the mech's unreadable face. A visor covered the optics while a mouth guard hid any other expression. It made appraising the mech's mood impossible and thus dangerous to Knock Out. Thundercraker was the first to speak.

"Here's the doctor, Onslaught."

The intimidating character gestured for them to come in. Thundercracker immediately stepped forward, but Knock Out wasn't moving. All the medic could think about was if Breakdown had to stoop to get in here, this mech would have needed to crawl. He wouldn't admit it, but he was intimidated. A brief moment passed before Breakdown placed a servo on the medic's shoulder and gently, but firmly showed the doctor onward.

Knock Out resisted the urge to plant his pedes, choosing instead, to shrug off the warrior's assistance and walk in on his own. He looked collected, but his spark was surging out of control, alarms pinging around in his hub. He needed to calm down and listen. He couldn't afford a lapse of function here; not now. Finally, Onslaught spoke.

"You must be Knock Out. Breakdown there has told me a bit about you."

"All good, I hope," Knock Out drawled, glancing back at Breakdown momentarily.

"I assure you, it was," the mech said, dismissing the other soldiers from the room before focusing on them again.

"I commend you for bringing him here in one piece, Breakdown, but why are you still here?" Onslaught asked as he advanced forward to meet them halfway. Thundercracker jumped in, wings hiking up in agitation.

"He says he can't reach the others and you know what that means. The Autobots have probably already secured that quadrant so we'll have to start all over. Lord Megatron won't be pleased and on top of what you're proposing . . ."

Onslaught's jaw stiffened and Knock Out could have sworn he saw a crimson flash behind the mech's visor. The medic really hoped this didn't have anything to do with him, but the side glare he was receiving from Thundercracker told him otherwise.

"As I said before, you better be worth the trouble, _doctor_."

"I'll be the judge of that, _Air Leader_ ," Onslaught said, emphasizing the other's title disparagingly. Thundercracker's optics seemed to burn with murderous intent before the officer smiled genteelly.

"As you wish, _General_ , but don't come begging to me when our leader demands answers."

"Dismissed," Onslaught said simply. Thundercracker gave Knock Out and Breakdown one last withering glance before withdrawing through the way they'd come. The pair stood quietly as the general strode closer; ground thundering under each step.

"Breakdown," Onslaught finally said, generating a nod from the warrior, "I want you to check-in with Brawl and see if he can't reassign you to another unit while . . ."

"If it's all the same to you, sir," Knock Out spoke up, hating the pop in his vocalizer as he did so, "I'd prefer it if Breakdown stayed."

Knock Out could hear the mech behind him yield a sharp intake; a sign the medic may have crossed some kind of obscure threshold of insubordination. Well, he figured if he was waist-deep in scrap anyhow, what harm could come of requesting the only bot to show him any consideration stay. Nonetheless, Knock Out could feel his stabilizer joints weaken as Onslaught tilted down and fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze.

It wasn't often a Decepticon general was interrupted without dire consequences—especially by some non-aligned civilian— but Onslaught also knew this mech could be the missing piece of a vital turning-point; the difference between victory or defeat.

"Granted. But tell me, are you always this presumptuous?" Onslaught asked in a gruff manner.

"My apologies. I meant no disrespect," Knock Out said humbly, happy to know he'd gotten away with that one.

"Good. Now, let's get straight down to why I requested you here. Our forces are in need of more recruits. Normally, we call on candidates with the right abilities and a desire to join the cause. You have the right abilities, doctor."

"But no desire to join," Knock Out finished carefully. Onslaught nodded.

"I thought as much. Mm, I can't force you to, but I am going to insist you reconsider."

"While I'm flattered by the invitation, I'd rather remain with my current medical outfit, General Onslaught. I do, however, sympathize with the Decepticon cause and will continue offering my services to any of you I encounter."

"An offer you most graciously extend to our enemies as well, no doubt."

Knock Out could hear his cooling fans kick on. That certainly sounded threatening. Was Onslaught trying to railroad him? Should he play along? Pretend to join the Decepticons? Then what? Try to escape when the opportunity presented itself? No. He worked too hard for this class of medic and he was going to use it.

"I'm a doctor, General. My job is to keep cybertronians online, no matter what affiliation they fall under," he said deliberately, gauging the other two's reactions. Breakdown kept a straight face, but Onslaught tilted his helm a bit.

"So it is. But, if I understand correctly, you don't rightfully deserve the title doctor, now do you?"

"Come again?" Knock Out said with more indignation than he felt. The accusation was too close to the truth to be a lucky guess, but he knew he couldn't panic.

"You used to work for a science center in Vos. It was mostly research and development, but you also did some work in energon excavation and chemistry," Onslaught said pointedly. The medic's arms quivered, but his voice held steady.

"Well, I certainly know my way around a laboratory, but I'd hardly consider that evidence against my vocation. After all, that's where I first showed an interest in medicine."

"Now we both know that isn't true, _doctor_ , because your alt mode suggests you enjoy the lifestyle of a competitive racer," Onslaught continued. Knock Out's confidence returned. So, that was all.

"Well, I may dabble in a few friendly competitions here and there, but what young bot doesn't have a hobby, am I right?"

"A hobby that nets you quite a substantial income. Just enough to keep up appearances at the academy or get into it?" Onslaught questioned. Knock Out shuttered his optics. How in the Pit had they gotten that information? Still, it didn't prove anything so the medic huffed.

"I don't see what all this has to do with my being a doctor . . ."

"You used to help in a little-known bodywork clinic before that."

"So?!" Knock Out snapped defensively without realizing it. Where did they find this information?! He had been very careful in covering his tracks; concealing his past from others and forging a perfectly untraceable identity.

"That's where I believe your curiosity in medicine began," Onslaught said in mock innocence.

"Maybe . . ." Knock Out began as he took an unconscious step backward, nearly bumping into Breakdown. His survival systems were screaming for him to follow his preserving nature to flee while every last bit of his concentrated willpower was trying to keep his plating from trembling.

"It's also where your former practices of illegal parts salvaging, frame modifying, and weapons dealing came in handy. I assume the clinic work was, in part, to pay for the entrance fees on those races you won which helped move you to Vos and into the next level of the sciences."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Knock Out tried to sound angry, but came across as flustered. His processor was racing to keep up with his skipping spark. He looked back at Breakdown, hoping to see some form of support, but all he saw was the warrior's own shocked expression. He was on his own now with only a frail brand of self-assurance to guide him.

"And it was only just a short time ago you enrolled in that little medical outfit of yours masquerading as a surgeon, correct?" Onslaught questioned in a slightly amused tone. Knock Out remained silent, not trusting his vocal composure anymore, but he was still able to maintain stern optic contact with his interrogator.

Onslaught stepped closer.

"So you're a scientist, a racer, a wheeler 'n dealer and now a doctor. I ran your class set and it's taken you from the position of a domestic servant in one quadrant to a member of the nobility in another; all thanks to your blurred heritage."

Knock Out finally looked away in silent shock and shame. He could feel their optics burrowing into him and it was maddening, but he couldn't bring himself to look up again.

Breakdown gave a small, angry vent as he witnessed the fight drain out of the smaller mech. This was why he joined the Decepticons in the first place. He had been tired of seeing spirited cybertronians emptied of their ambitions because of something as antiquated as a caste system. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right and, as Megatron had voiced, it wasn't staying. Still, Breakdown didn't think it was appropriate to showcase the medic's past like that and he gave the general a scornful look. Onslaught merely crossed his massive arms and addressed Knock Out.

"So, care to explain your drastic caste jumping to the Senate and the side that wants to bargain with them or to the faction that _sympathizes_ with your misconduct?"


	3. Chapter 3

There were three things Knock Out couldn't stand; four he absolutely detested: tedious tasks, dingy spaces, infringed upon liberties, and any blemishes to his meticulously kept finish . . . Currently, he was four for four and it was driving him crazy!

"Gah!" he cried in frustration as a datapad slipped from his strained servos and clattered to the floor, "Why didn't I leave when I had the chance?! Now, I'm stuck here for who knows how long!" he raged, pacing the confined space with all the fury of a caged Energon Eater.

Onslaught had assigned him to prep this area of the bunker for medical use; a mind-numbing chore not met with much enthusiasm by the medic. This makeshift clinic would have the barest of supplies, the tightest of spaces, and the dreariest of appearances at best. Knock Out didn't appreciate the grimy accommodations or the fact he'd been ushered down to the innermost part of the underground shelter. A smart move on the General's part but an infuriating hindrance to the doctor's sense of autonomy—he had already tried sneaking out twice to no avail. To top it off, he wouldn't be able to find the time to clean himself up, at least, not with the timetable he'd been given.

With another aggravated growl, the mech bent down and picked up the datapad. He placed a servo over the side of his helm as he rose back up. What a time for processor strain. He placed the small device on one of the undersized worktables and, in the act of rolling his optics, caught sight of a figure looming in the entranceway. He jerked, taking a few steps back until he realized who it was. Then, he glowered.

"Something I can help you with?"

Breakdown entered the small space and Knock Out couldn't help but notice the warrior looked . . . uncomfortable. Large servos clasped tightly out in front, optic ridges slightly raised, a small, worried frown on his faceplates; it made the larger mech look downright nervous.

The doctor's expression softened. He crossed his arms, assumed a relaxed posture, and waited for a response. This should be interesting.

"I came to see if you needed any help," Breakdown stated. Knock Out regarded the mech for a klik. Was this a genuine offer of assistance or just another means of keeping an optic on him?

While trying to reconcile the fact Breakdown was responsible for both his rescue and entrapment, Knock Out's more practical side spoke up, winning in the end—that heavier equipment sure wasn't going to move its self.

"Well, you can start by moving some of those things over to the washbasin. Most of it looks like it hasn't been cleaned in eons," Knock Out sneered as he gestured one servo towards shelves loaded with stained apparatuses. He was mildly surprised Breakdown nodded and eagerly began transferring tools down from the shelf to the solvent basin near the far wall. The medic let out a short, noncommittal vent before picking up where he left off—inventorying the insufficient supplies.

They worked in silence for a while, neither addressing the palpable tension building in the room. It wasn't until Knock Out's discomfort and boredom got the better of him that he finally broke the quiet.

"So, did you really come down here to offer assistance or did the General just send you in to check up on me?" he asked snidely, keeping his eyes trained on the datapad. Breakdown lowered another piece of equipment down before slowly turning to face the medic.

"Both, I guess. Brawl is still looking for a slot for me to fill and. . . Look, Knock Out . . . I didn't know Onslaught was going to do that. I wouldn't have mentioned you to them if I did."

"Yeah, for all the good that does me now," the doctor said severely, busying his servos with logging away nonexistent items. He didn't want to betray too much emotion, but anger was burning like a molten alloy in his tanks.

"I . . ." Breakdown faltered before continuing apologetically, "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Knock Out's optics constricted with rage. He finally looked up to the warrior.

"But it did! I told you I didn't want to come here. I told you!"

"I really didn't have a choice."

"Yes, I remember," Knock Out said coldly as he returned his smoldering optics back to the device's screen. In all honesty, he knew his anger was misplaced on Breakdown. The big bruiser was just the errand bot sent to fetch him for the inevitable—the inescapable choice he'd of had to make sooner or later. It's just, he would have rather it been later and he didn't know what else to do with that.

The emotive atmosphere became choking and the larger mech wrung his servos together again, before quickly heading for the door. The action caused Knock Out's spark rate to spike suddenly.

"Wait!" the doctor called out, pulling the datapad down and spinning to face Breakdown. The look of remorse on the larger mech's face was undeniable and yet confusing at the same time.

Why did he care?

"I wouldn't have told them if I knew. I mean it," Breakdown said quietly; sincerely.

But he did.

It was at that moment, Knock Out made a decision; one he hadn't made in a long time; one he was unconscious of but resolved in. He chose to trust Breakdown rather than suspect him from now on.

"You know what? I actually think you do," Knock Out said with a brilliant smirk. Breakdown was initially stunned by the reply, not used to being believed, but soon his features mirrored the confident expression of the doctor's. The medic continued.

"Besides, if it hadn't been for you I'd probably be one with the AllSpark by now. Never thanked you properly for that either, so, thank you."

"Well, in the end, you're the one who blasted us out of there."

"True, but I can't be mad at you for trying, now can I?" Knock Out added.

"Mm. But you're still mad though, aren't you?" Breakdown asked cautiously.

"Mad? No. I'm blowing a gasket here! First, I'm coerced into taking this position, then they have the bearings to pretend like I had a choice in the matter! Now, I'm assigned to some shabby basement closet . . . !" Knock Out ranted until he took notice of Breakdown's disapproving look, "Uh, no offense?"

The warrior frowned and shook his helm.

"None taken. I joined the Decepticons willing enough, but I didn't choose to be stationed here," Breakdown stated with just enough discontent to make Knock Out comfortable enough to chuckle.

"So, I'm not the only one disappointed with the managerial staff around here," he said with a grin. Breakdown's optics widened.

"You really shouldn't say stuff like that," he said quickly, turning his helm towards the entrance as if expecting someone to be standing there. Knock Out waved a somewhat dismissive servo.

"I'll take your word on that. Anyway, how do they expect me to work in these conditions, huh? This place is better suited for storage than an infirmary. And don't even get me started on the equipment down here. Inactive scanners, outdated decontamination products, inoperative tools, oh, and the lack of proper detailing implements," Knock Out huffed as he lightly pushed the datapad on the table aside, "It's a good thing I carry my own."

The medic reached into his subspace. Breakdown tilted his helm, half expecting the doctor to pull out medical supplies or surgical instruments. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of . . . a small rotary buffer? Knock Out noticed his companion's confusion, but attributed it to something else entirely.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but it gets the job done. Besides, you wouldn't believe how difficult it is to pack a full-sized one along with all this other junk I have to carry," the medic said as he produced a full medical kit in his other servo. Breakdown could only shrug. Like he concluded earlier; this guy was a trip, but, somehow, that was alright. The chance meeting with this mech made being assigned to this unpleasant platoon feel worth it to him.

"Well, do you want me to finish up moving these things down for you?" the warrior asked, jabbing a stubby digit back at the shelf. Knock Out nodded as he placed the medical kit down next to the datapad.

"Yes, if you'd be so kind."

Breakdown smiled as he proceeded to complete the task. He'd almost forgotten how good it was to have an ordinary conversation with someone.

"So, when are you planning on using that thing?" Breakdown asked casually, not expecting much in the way of an answer. He was bemused by the smaller mech's enthusiastic reply.

"Well, if you don't mind, I plan on using it right now," Knock Out exclaimed as he turned on the buffer, "I can't stand looking like this."

Before Breakdown had time to consider the response, the other mech was working on what appeared to be a perfectly polished paint job to the warrior. Evidently, fastidious flourish could be added to the list of attributes the little medic possessed.

"Right," Breakdown finally said as he continued emptying the shelves. However, after a while, it became clear Knock Out was having trouble reaching certain parts of his finish; the excessive mumbling and complaining gave it away.

"Uh, need any help?" Breakdown offered lightly. He didn't know how the suggestion would register with the other. The red mech fixed him with a wary glance.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't strike me as the detailing sort," he stated as he continued to struggle with the polisher and contortionism.

"Suit yourself," the warrior said with an amused smile. If only the medic knew, but he didn't. And besides, it was kind of funny to hear how many different ways Knock Out could say 'almost got it' and 'scrap this' in the same vent. Breakdown continued to enjoy the company until he placed the last piece of equipment by the basin and realized this may be the last time he saw...

"Knock Out, anything else?" he asked dolefully.

The mech in question paused for a moment. Despite his reluctance to admit it, he didn't want Breakdown to leave either.

"Um . . ." the medic was actually racking his processor, trying to find any reason for the other to stay longer. He lowered the buffer and looked at the tarnished equipment with a flicker of inspiration.

"I could use some assistance washing these things off; if you don't mind, of course," the red mech stated as he placed the polisher down and came to stand by the large sink. It was in this slightly frantic request Breakdown discovered Knock Out must be enjoying the company too. He gave a short nod.

The medic smiled and nodded back before facing the basin with a frown.

"Figures. They don't even have enough brushes over here for me to clean these things properly," the doctor complained as he reached a servo over and tried turning the valve that should have allowed the solvent to pour from the faucet. Nothing happened. The tap was rusted solid. He placed both servos on the broach wheel and tried again.

"Primus! Even the sink in this place is a piece of scrap," he grumbled in frustration, releasing his hold and taking a step back to scowl at the handle. Most reputable medical facilities had pede pump sinks, but that would be asking too much of this particular Decepticon base.

"Let me try," Breakdown stated as he twisted the valve. Blue solvent shot out of the spigot at the same time the knob broke free from the wall. Both bots stared at it for a moment, Breakdown looking distinctly mortified. Most saw him as nothing more but a clumsy oaf due to incidents like these. It wasn't true, but sometimes he didn't know his own strength and now all he could think was that it was happening again.

Knock Out, however, noticed the blue mech's embarrassment and wouldn't have any of it.

"Ah! Come on! You barely touched the thing. This place isn't winning any points in the engineering department," he huffed as he tapped the end of the spout with a digit. Breakdown smiled. For the first time in a long time, he was set at ease.

"Yeah, they should really get a _handle_ on that," the larger mech quipped as he quickly screwed the tap back on. The medic gave a small amused smile. Mission accomplished. As the two went to sanitizing the utensils, Knock Out found himself fairly impressed by Breakdown's apt at clearing the rust and grime away, especially since they had such limited scrubbers at their disposal. He was just about to comment on it when a mech with charcoal-colored armor plating came running up.

"Uh, Doctor?! Wounded out front! Onslaught wants you there immediately!" he exclaimed from the entranceway. The medic dropped everything.

"Here, take this! Grab that! Follow me!" Knock Out ordered as he seized his medical kit, shoved a few things into the other two mechs' servos, and zoomed out of the room. The soldier gave Breakdown a questioning look. Breakdown simply ran after the doctor.

As they raced down corridors, the blue mech found himself smirking again. He had been right about Knock Out mapping the base earlier as it didn't take long for the medic to start leading them towards that exit. Unbeknownst to the red bot, it wasn't the bunker's main entrance.

"Hey, Knock Out!" Breakdown shouted as he and the other mech paused near the start of another hallway; the doctor traveling another few paces before stopping to look back, "Front's this way."

"Oh," Knock Out said with a nod before turning to follow closely behind them the rest of the way.

When they reached the end of the corridor to a set of enormous hanger doors, Knock Out let out an uneasy vent. He still didn't know exactly what he was dealing with here. Were there other medically trained staff like him? How much did they expect him to do? Were they going to force him to work as a field medic out in open battle or keep him trapped in this bunker like their own private pet practitioner? Was this a test to see how useful he really was? Or a chance for him to slip away?

As they stepped across the entrance's threshold, his questions were answered at an overwhelming rate.

Troops were hauling in the injured on hover-stretchers or carrying them in manually from the field. There had to be at least fifty mortally wounded cybertronians already present and more were still coming. It was an inundating number for any fully staffed hospital. They just let him know he's the sole medic surrounded by recruits with no training higher than an orderly. Gunfire was blasting in the distance while fiery ash blew in all around them creating a sense of urgent doom. And there, standing in the background, was General Onslaught and Air Leader Thundercracker; watching. No escape.

For an instant, Knock Out panicked.

He'd never done anything like this before. Any prior emergency training was handled on an individual trauma basis. This was a full-blown disaster scenario! Everything within him wanted to shrink back; go with his first impulse and run. However, upon spotting the cruel smirk on Thundercracker's face, he just as quickly channeled that insecure stress into fuel for his self-preserving determination. If he wanted to get out of this on top he would need to prove himself. His mind fixated on the word triage and he was going to make slam sure everyone else's did too.

"Who here has medical experience?!" he tried shouting, but his voice was lost in the disordered throng. His optics darted to the two leaders; zero approval in their stances. He couldn't afford this. His sights settled beside him; his only support thus far. He hoped it was enough.

"Breakdown, would you mind getting their attention in that ever so charming way of yours."

Without hesitation, the larger mech let loose an audial piercing whistle. The whole assemblage quieted.

"Listen up!" Breakdown shouted boldly until all optics turned towards him. He realized he wasn't sure what else to say except, "Um, doctor in the house?!"

It had been enough.

"Thank you," Knock Out said with a grin before fixing a stern look on the horde in front of him, "Those with medical experience of any kind come stand next to me."

No one moved, choosing instead to give each other curious looks. The doctor growled.

"Chop! Chop! I don't have all solar cycle! I want those injured who can still walk to move to the west side of the building, now! You six, if they're unconscious, leaking profusely, and still venting bring them to the east side. If they're offline and not venting at all, leave 'em and move on. Everything else goes to the north end. Snap to it! I want this place organized!" Knock Out ordered. He was relieved when they began scrambling to do as he said. It didn't hurt either that Breakdown was scowling down at the crowd too.

The medic then turned to address the five mechs who came to stand by him.

"This is going to be a stretch," he wavered before straightening up, "Alright, I'm assuming you only have basic first aid training. You four, stay with me but you there, go to the west side. Inventory and stabilize their conditions before reporting back to me," he said handing the grey mech a datapad and a diagnostic reader, "However if any of them worsen let me know immediately, got it?"

"Uh, yes, sir, doctor, sir," the mech replied running in the direction of the walking wounded.

"The rest of you, I only have one other analyzer with me. I'll diagnose and prioritize. You simply treat who I tell you to and for what I tell you to, understand?" Knock Out demanded. As the four bots nodded submissively, the medic realized he was really in charge here; like all the doctors he'd seen before; worked with before. It was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time, but he had to keep it together. This was still a test and he had to keep his focus.

"Breakdown, I need you to grab a few soldiers, head back to the infirmary and bring every last bit of outdated equipment we have back out here," he directed.

"You got it," the larger mech responded happily. For the first time since arriving at this unit, Breakdown felt like part of a team again. It didn't take the warrior long to return and once the medical equipment was in place, it didn't take the doctor long to begin giving out more instructions on how he wanted injuries addressed.

Critical energon loss requiring immediate surgical intervention were labeled priority one for him to deal with alone. Any other energon loss cases were assigned to three of his impromptu assistants. Patients involving less severe ailments such as blaster burns became a priority two and fell to the other volunteer responder for treatment. All other functional soldiers available relayed messages and supplies between the three triage areas. Everything hinged on Knock Out's delivered instruction and it was all working beautifully . . . Until the medic realized halfway through his procedures, they didn't have any way of inducing stasis.

It hadn't been an issue so far thanks to most of his critical patients being too incapacitated to notice a little thing like surgery, but the next batch would be totally cognizant. Even with pain receptors turned off, hardened soldiers found it difficult to sit calmly under the pulse of a laser scalpel while wide awake. The last thing Knock Out needed was someone thrashing about in this environment. His anxiety started to climb with each completed weld; red optics instinctively shooting up, roaming the area in search of the only genuine advocate he felt he had.

"Breakdown!" he exclaimed once he spotted the familiar blue.

"What do you need?" Breakdown asked as he came beside the surgeon. Knock Out looked back down at his work. Honestly, he needed about twenty more servos and a shot of high grade, but this would have to do.

"I can't induce stasis. I'm going to need you to hold the next twenty or so down while I splice their lines together and weld their plating shut. Think you can manage it?"

There wasn't an immediate answer and the medic's anxiety returned. It was too much to ask for, wasn't it? As he thought before, not many liked watching a live surgery and he couldn't blame Breakdown. But, he wouldn't be able to pull this off alone and he was too nervous now to look up and confirm if that were true. The medic's frame gave a brief, involuntary tremor.

"Breakdown?" he queried apprehensively as he dared to glance up from the seal he completed on the last of his inert patients. To his elation, the larger mech was already in position over the next subject; firmly holding the less than pleased mech in place.

"Ready when you are."

"Right," Knock Out said with near giddy assurance as he set to work.


	4. Chapter 4

Onslaught smiled.

What used to be just another occasion for chaotic death had turned into a system of orderly care. It was everything he'd hoped it would be and more. When all was said and done, seventy percent of the wounded troops were treated and stabilized by this young doctor. Where most units carried a casualty rate of eighty or more depending on the battle, here were eighty-two soldiers ready to fight again as a result of introducing one mech. This was proof medical treatment could be the key to winning the war; an example of the potential he'd been trying to convince others of; a perspective he ultimately hoped Megatron himself would embrace.

It was a risk well worth it. After all, his plans usually did pan out when followed precisely and that's just how this little scheme went; according to plan. Once he discovered Knock Out's speckled past, he knew he had influence over the medic, but, more importantly, he knew the mech couldn't be a complete put-on. Anyone willing to go through such lengths to obtain medical professionalism in this current environment had to of picked up the right skills to make it this far. Thus, sure bet.

Thundercracker gaped.

He couldn't believe this hasty venture had actually worked. Everyone knew Onslaught's views on medical care were quite positive, but they also knew Megatron's were not. So, Thundercracker was less than thrilled when Onslaught sprang this little proposal on him. It was just after hearing Breakdown's account of a young medic in the area. Onslaught believed it was a perfect opportunity. For Thundercracker, it was a nightmare. As if having an audience with the leader of the Decepticons wasn't taxing enough, but to tack on a rushed demonstration to try and persuade said leader's opinion without knowing the full outcome . . .

It was an endeavor that could have cost both officers their ranks if not their sparks. After all, they didn't even know if they would find the medic or convince them to offer their services or if they were even capable of such services, to begin with. Thundercracker agonized over Onslaught's plan even more once they did know about the dubious medic who would most likely crack under pressure. He thought for sure this would fail. For once, the Air Leader was happy to see he was wrong.

Onslaught gave Thundercracker a small nod; the latter giving a wary smile. Both gave the observation deck above a respectful bow. After a moment, they each received a ping of approval over their communication links.

The gamble paid off.

"I suppose we should go congratulate our newest recruit," Onslaught stated as he moved forward. Thundercracker followed suit, begrudgingly. They made their way over to Knock Out who was busy cleaning up alongside Breakdown and joking around with the bulky warrior. The tanker mused while the seeker sneered.

"Well, you've certainly shown you're worth the trouble, doctor," Thundercracker stated harshly.

The red mech paused in his work and regarded the officer with searching optics until he settled on a smug grin.

"Why, thank you, Air Leader. I've always been quite good at showing others a thing or two," Knock Out said with just the right mix of gratitude and contempt to pass as congenial. Breakdown scarcely stifled a laugh. It was always amusing to see the condescending Air Leader get knocked down a peg, especially by a ground-based alt mode.

Thundercracker grunted as he pushed past the medic to continue on his way. Onslaught addressed the doctor.

"Not bad, Knock Out. Keep this up and you'll find advancement in our ranks sooner than you think."

"Thank you," the medic said with a charming smile—he knew then, he nailed it.

"I want you to follow me to the main assemblage. Breakdown can finish cleaning up here . . ." Onslaught started before pausing. He saw the developing request in the medic's optics, but couldn't figure why.

"You want Breakdown to accompany us, don't you?"

Knock Out didn't answer immediately. Honestly, he was surprised Onslaught picked up on that. After all, he just met these individuals and he always fancied himself as having a good hold on his composure. Was he really that easy to read?

"Well, no disrespect, but the big guy did drag me into all this. Might as well finish what you start, am I right?" Knock Out said with wry humor. Onslaught merely nodded and gestured for some soldiers to come over.

"Finish clearing the hanger and bring this equipment back to our new infirmary."

The three fighters stood with expressions of confusion. Onslaught sighed and shook his head.

"Storage bay number three," he stated simply which seemed to clear up the misunderstanding as the soldiers set to work. Knock Out nearly rolled his optics. He knew that area had been a storage closet.

Onslaught moved off back towards the bunker entrance; Knock Out and Breakdown following behind. As the trio moved down corridors, the medic let out a sorted vent.

The last few kliks had been a maelstrom of activity for him. Between hiding from blaster fire in an abandoned fort, being dragged into a military outfit against his will, and having to perform slap-dash surgeries on the whims of commanding officers, he didn't know where to start processing. One moment he was gallivanting Cybertron with only his various skills to protect him and now he was trailing after some Decepticon General with . . . well, only his various skills to protect him . . .

A genuine smile came over his faceplates. Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way; approaching it from the wrong angle. He could change that; he always did.

"General Onslaught, sir?" he said with all the dutifulness of a good soldier. Breakdown took on a skeptical look. This couldn't be the same mech who was complaining no less than a klik ago about where the leadership around here could stick it.

"Yes?" Onslaught stated as he continued to walk. Knock Out clasped his servos behind his back and took up a more unassuming posture.

"I passed quite a few spaces on my way down to the hanger and I believe they would make for more suitable accommodations as a medical wing."

"Agreed," Onslaught said as he came to a stop in the large assembly room. Both Knock Out and Breakdown stopped behind him; each looking puzzled.

"Um, thank you, general, though, I must admit, I thought it was going to take a little more negotiation than that," the medic said candidly as he unclasped his servos and put on a look of suspicion.

"Well, it helps that your presence among us was the original intent," Onslaught said as he turned to face them. Knock Out shifted his weight awkwardly. There seemed to be a thin line between favor and manipulation when it came to the Decepticons. Grant it, he had just tried to leverage his recent success for more space, but to find out it was already in the works? He would need to remember this in future dealings. For now, he would have to settle for what he had.

"Speaking of intentions, what will my role here be?" Knock Out asked matter of fact.

"I want you to develop a subtle, but persuasive means of recruiting future medics to our cause, starting with that little team of surgeons you were with."

Knock Out tried to keep the disbelief out of his expression, but he couldn't stop the widening of his optics. Did they really expect him to lure others into this mess? Yes; yes, of course, they did. That's exactly what they did to him, wasn't it?

"Alright. When would you like us to start?" he stated simply, so as not to betray his disdain for the task. Onslaught nodded his approval but didn't miss the plural pronoun.

"As soon as possible. I'll have a squadron escort you to Uraya, was it?" the officer said before turning to address Breakdown, "And since it appears our good doctor is safe, sound, and well on his way, you've finished what you've started. Now, I want you to report to Brawl in the armory. He's informed me there's room for you on the Delta Division."

Breakdown's optics drifted down and caught Knock Out's briefly before he looked back up at Onslaught somberly.

"Yes, sir," he stated, turning to exit. Knock Out cleared his vocalizer quite forcefully.

"Actually, I'd rather retain Breakdown as sort of my assistant; scratch the squadron."

Breakdown stopped and Onslaught jerked his helm down. The demand took them both by surprise.

"Really?" Breakdown asked with prospect in his voice. This sounded like the start of something new.

"Really?" Onslaught asked with ire in his. This sounded like the setup of nothing good.

"Yes, if it's all the same to you, general," Knock Out replied with more uncertainty this time. Maybe he was being too presumptuous again?

"It isn't all the same," Onslaught stated coldly.

Oh, yeah, definitely too presumptuous.

"I apologize . . ." Knock Out tried to backpedal until the giant mech took a step forward to tower over him.

"Let me make your situation perfectly clear to you. This is my unit of which you're a part. I not only have the authority to tell you what to do, I have the power to make you do it. I consider myself reasonably fair. I know you're new and you've proven yourself a valuable asset, but don't you ever forget who's in charge. Do I make myself clear?" Onslaught stated formidably. Knock Out could only eke out a curt nod, but not entirely out of fear. He hadn't been spoken to like this in ages and he hated it. He hated it.

The general stepped back towards Breakdown who did look apprehensive. He knew the Delta Division wasn't exactly meant for winning battles. They were the first squadron on the battlefield and, typically, the first warriors to die. In other words, even with all these upgrades, even with all the help he's been able to provide, Breakdown was still being treated as expendable by his comrades in arms here.

"Now, find Brawl and have him send me up some fighters to accompany him to . . ."

"Excuse me, chief. I can see strategy's your forte, so, if I'm to go on some covert mission to procure more medical staff for your unit, wouldn't it be more prudent for me to go with a single medical assistant than a convoy of badge-wearing militia?" Knock Out interrupted with a sardonic drawl. Once again, both larger mechs looked to the medic with astonishment.

"What?!" Onslaught demanded as Breakdown could be seen miming the words _what are you doing?_

Knock Out smirked. As long as he was doing the stirring, he didn't mind the trouble.

"Doesn't exactly scream subtly, now does it?"

"Acknowledged," a gravelly voice said from behind them all. The trio turned in shock to see an enormous, gun-metal grey mech looming over them. Knock Out was more surprised a cybertronian of that size could move so quietly.

"Thank you, um, um . . ." he responded with validation, not realizing who he was speaking to. That all changed once he noticed Breakdown and Onslaught were now bowing. Ah, he knew the downright frightening gladiator build looked familiar, but that left his processor spinning at the speed of light trying to come up with the appropriate title he'd heard the others use.

"Lord Megatron," he added dutifully—if not awkwardly—as he took his own pronounced bow of respect. His features were composed but his spark was rattling. Dealing with Onslaught was one thing, but no one had said anything about _the_ Megatron being here, did they?!

"Why of course, _doctor_ ," Megatron stated evenly as the three mechs rose again. Knock Out tried to appear gracious, but there was just something about the way the Decepticon leader said doctor that caused his inner workings to coil up. His resolve to look unfazed was crumbling fast—something that didn't go unnoticed by Breakdown or Onslaught. They knew Megatron would pick up on the medic's nervousness and perceive it as weakness. Every Decepticon knew Megatron didn't tolerate weakness.

It was Breakdown who decided to mediate.

"Lord Megatron, this is Knock Out and he's not just a doctor. I hear he comes with quite the list of qualifications," the warrior said trying to sound nonchalant. Onslaught was actually impressed by Breakdown's ability to recover, but, angry it was on behalf of the mech who'd just opposed his authority moments ago. Still, it was the general's idea to bring the medic here in the first place, so, Onslaught quickly supplied Megatron with a datapad holding Knock Out's dossier. While viewing the contents of the device, the former gladiator of Kaon periodically glanced down at the smallest mech among them, occasionally making noncommittal sounds.

Knock Out was having a difficult time determining whether the gestures were of curiosity or scrutiny. The medic was also truly concerned about the phrase _just a doctor_ _._ Was being of the medical persuasion a bad thing here? His processor began to whirl again.

They didn't have a proper infirmary; barely anyone had any first aid experience and he hadn't seen nut nor bolt of a medical professional anywhere. Conversely, there were tons of weapons, everybody seemed to have armed and dangerous etched in their sparks, and there appeared to be vehement warrior types at every turn . . . Ah, scrap, this was bad and it was real.

"You've demonstrated your ability to command medical situations adequately enough, _doctor_ , but if you're to serve as our brand of _field_ _medic_ you'll need a soldier's training as well; something, I believe, you may be lacking the necessary credentials in."

Knock Out stared up at the leader, struggling desperately to keep the combination of horror and confusion off his faceplates. They expected him to run out there and die, didn't they? No, no; that wouldn't make sense, would it? What if it is? Did he even have a choice? Did he even stand a chance?

Breakdown, seeing the mech's distress, took up a stoic position beside the doctor. Knock Out trusted him. He would finish what he started.

Megatron stared at the two for a moment in silence. It felt like a little eternity. Finally, he smiled before passing the datapad back to a troubled Onslaught.

"However, your request shows foresight and cunning, traits I admire. Breakdown should be more than able to provide adequate _safeguarding_ until you have what it takes. I welcome you to the Decepticons, Knock Out."

The medic would have said thank you if his vocalizer wasn't locked up. The former gladiator of Kaon glanced to the general.

"Onslaught, a word with you in the hanger once you finish here."

With that, Megatron left as discreetly as he entered. Onslaught wasted no time addressing what he saw as the unlikely, unnecessary partnership.

"Go; both of you. I want that medical team brought here as soon as possible."

"Yes, General Onslaught," Breakdown answered as Knock Out still appeared to be in an awe-stricken stupor, optics glued to the spot Megatron was occupying only moments before.

"Huh? Oh," the medic roused once the blue warrior laid a servo on his shoulder plating, "As you wish, General. Breakdown and I will need to grab a few supplies for the venture, not to mention, clean up a bit; then we'll be on our way . . ."

"Fine, fine! Just get on with it already," Onslaught growled, still upset that somehow a new recruit and an unwanted transfer were able to challenge his authority with Megatron's blessing. He hadn't foreseen this coming which only caused him more irritation. Knock Out didn't have to be asked twice as he took his leave down the hall in his own huff, Breakdown following promptly. The medic was still angry about Onslaught's leadership style.

The two traveled in silence until they ran into the group of soldiers on their way back from storage bay number three. A few of the fighters quirked an optic ridge at the visibly aggravated doctor and eager combatant as they passed, but only one decided to speak up.

"Good work back there, Hard Knocks," the femme said chipperly. Knock Out paused his stride, astonishment usurping vexation.

"Duststorm!?"

"So, you finally decided to pick a side, hmm? About time," she smiled slyly. Knock Out couldn't help but smile too.

"No, more like going with the winning team, albeit reluctantly," he said sprightly. Duststorm smirked as the other soldiers with her decided to walk onwards. They didn't care much to watch a reunion between two cons they hardly knew. Breakdown, however, remained, though feeling slightly out of place.

"Figures. Looks like you finally got that medical training too. Doctor?" she asked.

"Surgeon," Knock Out stated smugly.

"Ah," she mused with a smile, stepping closer to the pair before inquiring, "who's the custodian there? Primus knows you need one."

"Oh, pardon me, I thought you two may have known each other already. This is Breakdown, my new assistant," Knock Out stated graciously, trying out the new title for his...well, rescuer turned detainer turned confederate.

"Hey," Breakdown greeted simply, feeling an odd sense of pride. However, it gave way to confusion. He knew he'd never seen this femme here before, but it appeared she and Knock Out went back. Duststorm sure didn't look like she ever entertained thoughts of undertaking the healing profession. It made him wonder...

"Um, how do you two know each other?" he asked, hoping it wasn't too forward. Most took his questioning that way. Knock Out didn't.

"I used to send weapon enhancements down to her in Kalis; mostly for pistols, rifles, and such. You still have that sweet little Dyna-Pelter?"

"Never leave base without it. You still have ties to Swindle and Hotwire?"

"Loosely..." Knock Out hesitated, wanting to change the subject as he also still had ties to Autobot suppliers—a fact which may not go over well now, "So, what have you been up to?"

"Besides perfecting my craft," she hummed, tapping a digit to her side-mounted rifle, "I've recently secured a spot on Megatron's primary strike force."

"What?!" Both Knock Out and Breakdown said in unison for entirely different reasons. Breakdown was surprised someone of her caliber was actually speaking with them. Knock Out was astonished she wanted to work that closely to battle. Duststorm waved a servo knowingly.

"Sniper, Knock Out."

"Ah, makes complete sense now, thanks for clearing that up. I guess a congratulation is in order, so, congrats," Knock Out drawled. Duststorm rolled her optics.

"How can you stand this guy?" she asked with mirth, glancing up at Breakdown. The warrior shrugged still thunderstruck an officer working directly with one of the Decepticon's most crucial units was...helping a bunch of lower-level fighters move medical equipment?

"If you don't mind me asking, ma'am..."

"Please, just call me Duststorm," she insisted. Breakdown nodded.

"Duststorm, what brought you..."

"I'm sorry, wait, wait, wait," Knock Out interrupted, fanning his arms out dramatically before lifting a digit into the air, "She asks one time to call her by her designation and you oblige, just like that?"

At first, Breakdown gave the medic an unimpressed look, but it soon switched to a grin once he realized who he was talking to.

"Just like that," he said in a casual tone. Knock Out deadpanned. Duststorm snickered.

"I like you, Breakdown. Keep Knocko here humble."

"Hehe," the medic mocked the sniper. Breakdown smiled again. He hadn't realized how much he missed interactions like this. Nevertheless, it didn't help him with his question.

"I was going to ask why your down this way, Duststorm. Lord Megatron was headed back towards the hanger."

"Actually, it's because of him," Duststorm stated pointing to Knock Out before continuing, "It's not often you run into old associates in this line of work."

Knock Out gave Duststorm a scrutinizing look thanks to Breakdown's inquiry. He knew her, sure, but enough to warrant following him this far down the turbofox hole to say hello? No, this was about something else. From what he picked up so far, Decepticons appeared to always have another motive. He looked back to Breakdown. Well, most of them anyway. So, what would a high-standing officer be doing here talking to a newly recruited medic, especially when it would have been easier to do so at the surface?

"You were sent down here, weren't you?" Knock Out asked pointedly. Duststorm's optics widened before settling back to unassuming.

"You're more perceptive than I remember."

"Yeah, well, I've had a lot of practice over the last solar cycle. What's this about?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But Megatron asked for you to be escorted out the back. I reported I knew you, so, he sent me," Duststorm stated matter of fact. Knock Out and Breakdown shared a confused look before the warrior took point.

"But General Onslaught just assigned us to travel to Uraya with Lord Megatron present. Neither one mentioned anything about which exit to take."

Duststorm's optics appeared to gleam with murderous intent. Knock Out felt his plating rattle when she transformed her right arm into a blaster rifle. It would be the first but probably not the last time he looked down the barrel of a weapon at such close range.

"Orders are orders, so, let's get moving, huh?" she said smoothly, motioning towards the corridor with the rifle. As the two mechs reluctantly began walking down the hall leading to an unknown outcome, the medic just couldn't help himself.

"Welcome to the Decepticons, Knock Out."


	5. Chapter 5

He'd only met the guy twice…but that second time was a doozy.

Breakdown never imagined going out to locate the independent physician for the Decepticon cause would end up with him becoming the medic's assistant or being led down a hallway at the end of a sniper's rifle. And, not just any sniper, but one of Megatron's choice elect. Said medic was still yammering away ahead of him, trying badly to get them out of the situation.

"Duststorm, please, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement? Agreement? Extortion?!" Knock Out pleaded desperately as this unforeseen encounter was messing with his chances of evading this whole wretched predicament of joining a war.

"Keep walking, hotshot," Duststorm smirked from her position behind Breakdown, rifle trained on spark chambers. Breakdown had the strange impression this wasn't the first time an exchange like this happened between the two.

"No, I'm serious…whatever they're paying you, I'll find double…triple, even!" Knock Out exclaimed, chancing a look back to see if his words were having any effect. Breakdown felt the femme's presence behind him fade. He, too, glanced back and realized she stopped. Unfortunately, he missed the medic had stopped too, bumping into the doctor and nearly knocking the smaller mech down.

Unthinkingly, Breakdown reached out and steadied Knock Out on his pedes, a gesture the medic didn't shrug off in disgust as so many other Cons would have but appeared confused by…as if not expecting it. Once composed, both turned to face their hijacker.

"Listen, Knock Out. I'm not the same gun-for-hire back in Kalis," Duststorm stated potently before continuing, "I was really ordered by Megatron to bring you out the back way just now. If it's my guess, I don't think he believes you'll be utilized here correctly. I could be wrong though."

"You could be wrong? What's that supposed to mean?!" Knock Out practically whined. He didn't like the tone of flippancy in her voice.

"It means, I don't frag up orders and I'm not about to start now, so, move it and quit your blathering!"

She took a meaningful step forward and the two mechs, once again, begrudgingly turned around and began walking. Breakdown could see the medic's wheels spinning, both figurately and literally. He knew Knock Out was thinking of a means of escape due to the mech's helm tilting, but the involuntary rotation of the medic's tires with each step…the same way they shifted when the doctor had taken a step backward from him at the fort...

"Ah, scrap," Breakdown vented just as Knock Out dropped down into his sporty alt mode.

"Drive!" the doctor yelled, peeling off down the corridor. Duststorm let out a garbled shout of rage as she made to push around the larger warrior. Breakdown glanced at her, then, back at the vanishing red bumper. He hoped to Primus this wasn't a mistake, but he didn't exactly know what else to do. He quickly shoved Duststorm off balance as she passed before transforming into a heavy-duty truck and taking off after Knock Out.

"Hey! Get back here you idiots!" she screamed, firing off a few volleys of her rifle and nearly taking out Breakdowns rapidly retreating tires. She quickly dove into her own purple-and-gold cybertronian car form to give chase. She couldn't safely use her equipment in such an enclosed space but, hopefully, the busy bunker would offer obstacles in her escapees' way; for their sake.

Breakdown revved his engine into overdrive, gaining on the quicker, red car. Knock Out slowed a little once he noticed who was following, allowing the warrior to pull in directly behind him. The two traveled on, drifting around different corners to avoid congested areas and briefly losing their pursuer. Noting the sound of their roaring motors, Breakdown realized he probably should have established a communication line with the other mech. He wasn't the only one with the thought as he received an exchange invite. He answered the ping, letting Knock Out's elevated voice come thru over the channel.

"I'm heading back to the hanger. I don't trust her. I mean why would Megatron arrange this when he was standing right in front of us? He and Onslaught are in the hanger right now, so, we'll just head back that way and…oh, scrap!" the medic hollered, nearly blowing out Breakdown's audiles.

However, before he could ask, he spotted what Knock Out had; the group of soldiers from earlier blocking their path.

In the medic's mind, the troop was actively trying to stop them, but even if they were just meandering the halls, they were still in the way of him reaching his goal. He quickly transformed back into robot form and used his momentum to launch upwards. Breakdown also transformed, skidded to a halt, and watched as the medic executed a perfect summersault jump over the helms of the bewildered fighters before landing in his vehicular form on the other side; all four tires rotating at speed.

"Is that the new medic?" one asked in disbelief as the car pulled away.

"Is he acrobatically trained?" the other inquired in amazement.

"Is he crazy?!" the last voiced tersely, turning to look at the blue warrior.

"Yes. I don't know. And maybe," Breakdown smiled wryly until he heard the echo of Duststorm's engine, "Mind stepping aside? I need to catch up."

The fighters all stepped on one side of the tunnel to let Breakdown squeeze by until…

"Wait, didn't that officer back there say those two were supposed to leave by the north exit?"

"Thanks," the bruiser stated as he collapsed down into alt mode and took off after Knock Out again; angry commands to return cried after him.

Despite how much trouble all this was probably going to get him into, Breakdown couldn't help but be amazed. Where had the medic learned moves like that? Why was the doctor so easily given to running away one moment and yet, brave enough to invite wrath from leadership the next? These, of course, would have to be questions for a later time, but ones he definitely wanted answers to. For now, catching up to the mech would have to do.

"I think we're almost there," Knock Out stated as Breakdown pulled alongside him, "I'm, uh, sorry I left you behind there…"

"Are you joking? You pretty much cleared the way with that stunt," the warrior replied freely. Knock Out beamed.

"Always knew those dance classes would pay off," he said facetiously.

"Knock Out! Stop!" Duststorm's voice could be heard bellowing from within the bunker along with the sounds of several engines. But the hanger doors had just come into sight of the medic and warrior. They both lunged forward in a burst of speed, nearly bowling each other over in their wakes. The doctor, naturally, reached the exit first, transformed, and broke into the large open enclosure. Breakdown followed suit and almost doubled back when he realized all optics in the place were on them.

Knock Out, however, charged forward, darting around wildly until he spotted Megatron and Onslaught. Without hesitation, he ran in their direction. Breakdown didn't immediately trail after him. Duststorm was coming through the doors and he anticipated having to run interference, but as soon as she spotted the medic heading towards leadership, she stopped. Breakdown watched in uncertainty as she just placed her helm in one servo and shook it. Something about her actions made his tank drop. She had been telling the truth.

"Knock Out! Wait!" he shouted, running in pursuit, but the effort was futile. The doctor reached the two leaders.

"Lord Megatron," the medic puffed out the address as he placed a servo over his chestplate and bowed a bit in a show of pardon. However, it was Onslaught who responded.

"I can't believe I missed it, but I see it now. I did have it backwards."

Knock Out's expression of relief sunk at the disgusted tone of Onslaught's voice. He glanced at Megatron who remained impassive and back to the ridged general. All of the doctor's attention refocused on deciphering the statement.

"Got what backwards, sir?" he asked just as Breakdown came up a step or two behind him. Onslaught regarded the uneasy blue warrior for a moment before returning his focus on an even more anxious Knock Out.

"You weren't down looking up," he growled, stepping forward and causing Knock Out to step back, "You were nothing but a pampered, little, self-important aristocrat playing around in the streets!"

The general watched as the medic's faceplates seemed to fog over in shock. For a moment, Onslaught half expected the doctor to buckle right there, but, once Knock Out found his voice, the much-awaited angry backlash was present.

"You have got to be pulling my struts?!" the smaller mech almost snarled, "First off, I never got a chance to say anything during your charade of a consultation! I've had some ups and downs, true, but I'm here, aren't I? Second off, I didn't hear anyone complain when I was putting soldiers back together, so, why bother with the particulars of my _blurred_ past life now?!"

"It explains your presumptuousness," Onslaught stated in an all too calm tone for Knock Out's liking. The medic was starting to regret the outburst.

"It also means, you'll never fully yield to a chain of command unquestionably," Megatron added coldly before continuing with more heat, "As you've, no doubt, just demonstrated with Duststorm."

Knock Out was more than regretting now as he watched Megatron lift an arm and gesture in a beckoning manner. He was too petrified to move and yet, too jumpy to stand still. It translated into more words leaving his vocalizer on impulse.

"Oh, that? So, you did tell her to escort us out the back then. Hear that Breakdown," Knock Out chirped overzealously, earning a nervous shrug from the blue warrior who looked like he'd rather melt through the floor. Breakdown didn't know where this discussion was headed but it didn't sound as if it was going in their favor. Certainly, never a dull moment with the doctor. Knock Out turned back to the two leaders and willfully smoothed out his voice into a purr.

"A simple misunderstanding, mostly, my liege. It's why we came looking for you immediately, to, uh, clear up the matter."

From the corner of his optic, Knock Out spotted Duststorm coming up along with a recognizable, slender mech to Megatron's side. He knew of Soundwave by reputation alone…the rumor mill didn't do justice describing how intimidating the mech was up close. He was similar to Onslaught that his optics were hidden behind a visor, but so was Soundwave's entire faceplate. It made him appear more than just expressionless…

" _Duststorm, please, I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement? Agreement? Extortion?!... You could be wrong? What's that supposed to mean?!... I'm heading back to the hanger. I don't trust her._ "

Knock Out suddenly heard his voice being played back for him. The medic looked on in bewilderment, but Megatron didn't bother to address it.

"Soundwave alerted me to the fact you ran in much higher social circles than you choose to now. It was Duststorm who informed me of your more illicit activities. I planned to meet with you privately after speaking with Onslaught, but, since you insisted on having an audience; tell me, what were your intentions once you reached Uraya, Knock Out?"

"Why, to help recruit more practitioners for the Decepticon cause, of course," Knock Out stated all too willingly for it to be true. Megatron remained silent; unamusingly silent. The medic wavered under the former gladiator's dissecting gaze. Decepticons usually had alternate motives; so did he. It appeared Megatron already knew that.

"Care to try again, _doctor_?"

The leader wanted something closer to the truth. The medic couldn't help but turn back to look at Breakdown. The bruiser had been nothing but upfront with Knock Out ever since the doctor met the mech. Well, all except the bit about belonging to the Decepticon faction, but that was really Knock Out's fault; he forgot to ask because, even while outfitting and upgrading weapons on the warrior, Breakdown seemed so…approachable to him; so genuine.

Well, if he was going to die now anyway, it would be for the truth then; due in part to being caught, but, mostly because he owed his new assistant that much. He couldn't face the mech while telling it though and chose to turn back toward Megatron and Onslaught.

"Once we reached Uraya, I was either going to convince Breakdown to let me go, maybe replace me with someone else, or stay there in Uraya with me…"

The blue-colored mech kicked up in disbelief. Honestly? The medic actually chose to answer a question with condemnatory consequences honestly?! He nearly jumped when Megatron looked in his direction with the same scrutiny.

"And would you have gone with him, Breakdown?" the leader asked critically. The question was simple enough to answer in one regard but spark-wrenchingly difficult in another. He had no plans of leaving the Decepticon cause, but he also didn't want to see…Knock Out go down alone.

"No," he said in a way that left it open-ended. The medic sunk on his pedes, missing it, but the champion of Kaon did not.

"But?" Megatron pressed.

"But I would have let him go," Breakdown stated simply. Knock Out perked up. Onslaught lost it.

"This is intolerable…!" he hollered, taking a menacing step forward, but Megatron both stopped and silenced him with a lifted servo; red optics still firmly fixed on the pair. He tilted his helm towards Knock Out.

"You have valuable skills, _doctor_ , but you lack reliability," he mused gravely before shifting his gaze towards Breakdown, "Your loyalty and strength are admirable but, according to Onslaught, you're a quick-tempered, thoughtless liability on the battlefield. So, one which would abandon the mission while the other jeopardizes it."

Knock Out and Breakdown each shared a look of dismay. The medic felt his survival had reached the end of a much too short line while the warrior felt his expendability had not only been confirmed but justified. To add to their distress, a true audience was starting to build, Thundercracker now among them. The seeker seemed much too pleased by the situation, but Knock Out and Breakdown's focuses were brought back to Megatron as he continued.

"Separately, it would appear you're both useless to the Decepticons…"

The two remained silent, because, despite all odds, there appeared to be a promising pause at the end of the warlord's statement. They weren't disappointed.

"But, from what I gather, together, you give us an effective advantage."

"Them?! An advantage?!" Thundercracker couldn't help but interject. He wanted to see the two grounders get a good dressing down, not pat on the back. Megatron regarded the Air Leader with a calculating sneer which caused the seeker to cringe.

"You told me yourself, Breakdown brought the medic here intact, completing a mission successfully. Does that not sound like an improvement?"

Thundercracker quieted in the realization. Megatron was right. The big bruiser who'd been bounced around from unit to unit for failure at every turn had finally executed a task without fiasco. Megatron turned back to Knock Out whom he caught giving Thundercracker an impudent expression.

"I would think the _doctor_ is obvious," he scoffed as the medic quickly straightened up. Onslaught growled.

"Lord Megatron, with all due respect, you can't seriously consider keeping a potential deserter in our ranks. Even if it was my idea to bring the medic here, I can't stand cowards."

"That's why they won't be remaining with _your_ troop. They will be joining Duststorm and her team back to Uraya," Megatron stated pointedly. Onslaught couldn't believe it, couldn't stand it, but knew better than to question it. Everyone knew clear orders from the warlord were better taken unchallenged unless you wanted to face down the business end of a fusion cannon. Breakdown had a feeling this fact, regrettably, eluded Knock Out.

"Uh, Lord Megatron? Excuse me, but when you say join Duststorm's team, does that mean we'll actually be on the primary strike force or simply escorted by them to Uraya?" the medic asked in a surprisingly casual tone. Breakdown resisted the urge to wince. The warlord raised an optic ridge in mild amusement, but chose not to respond as if he already knew…

"This is a great honor, Lord Megatron. We won't let you down," Breakdown interrupted, drawing up the medic's confused attention. The two shared a look that encompassed a mixture of strain and ease; breach and promise; doubt and trust. Knock Out finally turned back to the former gladiator.

"As Breakdown said, we don't aim to disappoint."

"Very good," Megatron said with a nod of approval before continuing, "As I stated before, Onslaught, I'm sure Breakdown will safeguard our newest recruit as they send other _physicians_ your way as they will undoubtedly do for several of our posts. Duststorm, I've already informed the others. Do follow her lead this time, Knock Out," Megatron said as he turned from the whole assemblage and transformed into his flight-based form. He rose high enough to avoid bowling them over but low enough to where the roar of his engines rattled their spark chambers as he flew off. Soundwave followed suit.

For a moment, those left in the wake of their heat and exhaust just stood in silence, watching the two aircraft sail out of the hanger. It was Thundercracker who finally broke the quiet.

"What the scrap just happened here?!"

It captured almost everyone's attention, but Onslaught just shook his helm and began walking back to the bunker.

"This isn't the time or place, Air Leader, after all, we still have company?" he stated evenly. He paused when Duststorm let out a frustrated vent.

"Don't stop on my account. I'm just as shocked as you are," she replied tightly, giving Knock Out a cutting, sideways glance.

"What did I do…?" the red mech started until he saw Breakdown shake his helm fervently. Apparently, this wasn't the best time for him to disclose his own irritation with the turn of events.

"What, indeed," Duststorm growled as she revolved violently to face the medic, "It took me vorns to get a position on this task force and you did it in…in…"

"Less than a solar cycle," Thundercracker slyly interjected, enjoying the look of fear on the doctor's face as Duststorm nearly cracked the casing of the rifle in her grip.

"Alright then. The dropship's that way, fellas. Let's get a move on while there's still light out," she sneered with smoldering optics, before marching off towards the hanger exit. Onslaught gave a supportive grunt before also continuing on his way towards the bunker. Thundercracker lingered behind a bit more.

"Well, go on, doctor. You better keep showing them you're worth the trouble," the air leader snickered as he moved off after Onslaught.

"Same to you, Thunder," Knock Out jeered, though his plating slackened in relief at the departure. He quickly noticed the stares he was receiving from soldiers still in the hanger, however. The medic put on an easygoing façade, but his hesitancy to follow Duststorm was still obvious in his constricted steps. Breakdown, by contrast, appeared eager to go as, for him, this truly was a highpoint in his stint with the Decepticons. Megatron had not only placed him higher up the proverbial totem pole but had endorsed a task he had already taken upon himself to do, twice.

The two traveled outside the hanger in their respective moods and spotted a purple-and-black dropship not far off. The femme was already standing next to one of the ship's four access points along with a dark, grey mech Knock Out felt was Onslaught on enhancements. Was he really up for more life-altering interactions with imposing-looking individuals right now? No, no he wasn't.

At that moment, the events of the last few harrowing cycles finally caught up with him. Between dealing with all the physical threats, emotional turmoil, and, not to mention the lack of recharge he had before even getting wrapped up in this mess, the medic was exhausted. However, he could also see his companion appeared captivated by the whole situation; excited really.

"Breakdown, I'll let you handle all the introductions," Knock Out drawled with barely half the vigor he usually employed. The warrior looked down. It was easy to spot the doctor was starting to tire. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure the medic hadn't even refueled since arriving at the bunker, let alone rest.

"Gotcha. Leave it to me," Breakdown stated enthusiastically as he took the lead, practically jogging over to the other Decepticons. Knock Out let out a weary vent as he quickened his dragging pace to keep up. Unbeknownst to the medic, things were about to swing back in his favor. The terrifying mech next to Duststorm smiled upon seeing the blue bruiser's approach.

"Breakdown!?" he exclaimed familiarly.

"Rampart!" Breakdown responded in kind. Knock Out proceeded to regard them both with a look of incomprehension as did Duststorm. The two larger mechs didn't notice.

"So, this is where you ended up, huh?" Rampart asked.

"Yeah, can't say I'll miss the place either," Breakdown scowled. Rampart gave a low, rumbling laugh.

"Don't blame you. Onslaught's always been a killjoy in my opinion. Well, you'll be riding with us now I hear. Looks like you're not alone."

"Ah, right. This is Knock Out, our new medic," Breakdown stated readily, gesturing towards said medic with an open servo. The doctor summed up every last bit of energy to sound vibrant in his reply.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Rampart. Hopefully, we'll, uh, make a good addition to the team."

Rampart gave another short laugh.

"Duststorm says you're more of a spark-minding project. Is it true you basically joined the Decepticons this morning?"

"More or less," the medic drawled, trying to formulate an appropriate response to the obvious reservation, but his processes were just too worn-out; he defaulted to smugness instead, "But, here I am, exceeding expectations. I'm a surgeon, by the way. How's that for a spark-minding project, Storm?"

Rampart raised a skeptical optic ridge. Breakdown decided it was time to rush this salutation along as he could see the cruel smirk coming to Duststorm's faceplates.

"Well, we've had a pretty, um, eventful cycle and I know I haven't refueled yet. Besides, I'm sure we have to get a move on, right? So, just point us in the direction of the nearest dispensary and we'll finish meet and greet once we take off," he said keenly. Rampart knew the mech was just trying to get out of there, but he also realized why and didn't have any qualms with it.

"Sure. Down the hall here and to your left. You'll follow it to the end and then turn right. It's marked, so, even you can't miss it."

"Thanks," the blue warrior stated as he virtually corralled Knock Out on to the ship. Duststorm turned to her crewmate and scowled.

"Those two are going to be nothing but trouble," she bemoaned.

"I don't know," Rampart considered as he watched the two mechs disappear down the corridor, "I actually see the makings of a real nice partnership there."


	6. Chapter 6

Everything within Knock Out's dwindling power reserves was absorbed into remaining alert. He didn't exactly feel on the comeback trail yet and stepping onto a dropship that looked more like a flying citadel didn't exactly play down his anxieties. Just because he was able to dodge a huge bullet back there didn't mean he was safe now. Thundercracker's words kept playing back in his weary processor.

_You better keep showing them you're worth the trouble._

It was a statement that got up under his plating because it was a declaration that seemed to dominate his life. It also caused him to finally catch up to the reality of his situation. He wasn't headed for his complex next to the clinic after this long excursion. He wasn't headed to his berth to enjoy a few moments of polishing his finish while listening to the evening broadcasts. He wasn't going home.

Truly running on fumes now, the medic fought to keep himself vertical as he tried to work out how he got so deep into this mess, to begin with. It appeared he wasn't the only one.

"So, ah, you were in the higher classes then, huh?" Breakdown asked, attempting to sound casual but finding it difficult to do considering all the excitement that just took place over the fact. Knock Out sighed, choosing to keep his gaze forward as they walked.

"Yes," the medic answered briskly; curtly. Breakdown took a moment to digest the response. He had been so caught up in all the commotion surrounding these events, the revelation of Knock Out being from an upper caste hadn't fully registered. It sort of explained some aspects of the dynamic, red mech walking beside him and, yet, raised even more questions for the blue-colored warrior.

"Scientific?" he asked. Knock Out scoffed; optics still forward.

"Don't I wish. No, no; I was third-tier compared to them. Artistic," the medic said with just enough discredit to cause Breakdown to frown.

"Well, still, you . . ." Breakdown began until Knock Out interpreted it as that oh, so familiar passing of judgment he couldn't stand. It had been a while since he let that appraisal get to him but in his tired state . . .

"Contrary to popular belief, it's not all easy street at the top, especially when you're the lid!" he snapped; optics still set forward.

Breakdown regarded the smaller mech with a look of wounded confusion; a look Knock Out missed— too focused on past resentments to notice. Honestly, the medic didn't know why he was so upset all of a sudden. It's not like he hadn't dealt with any of this before, but something about engaging Breakdown in it made his energon boil. Again, it appeared he wasn't the only one.

"I was gonna say, you still managed to secure a spot on one of the topmost squadrons the Decepticons have to offer in one go, but, hey, what do I know," Breakdown groused in equal provocation, breaking stride with the medic by slowing down. Knock Out nearly tripped at both the pace shift and the unexpected praise.

"Well, I . . . how was I . . . I mean . . . ?!" he sputtered, anger and embarrassment fighting for space as he finally turned to look up at the other mech before settling on, "Sorry. Thank you."

To the medic's surprise—and unadmitted relief—the warrior's stern features relaxed.

"Forget it," Breakdown said dismissively even though he was caught off guard by the apology. It wasn't often he heard others admit fault, especially to him. It made the warrior more forgiving than usual.

"I'd be cranky too if I looked as drained as you do," he smirked. Knock Out gave a wry smile.

"Gee, thanks. You're looking exceptionally worn-out yourself."

Breakdown shook his helm in humor as he gestured ahead with one servo.

"Come on, there's the dispenser room over there. We'll grab some energon and then meet up with the rest of the crew, I guess. I'm sure they'll come to find us before we get up in the air."

"Either that or they're hoping we'll roll off the ship during takeoff," Knock Out quipped as he looked to the automatic doors sliding open at their approach, "I think Duststorm would rather mount my hood on a wall than have me as a compatriot."

"Well, you did pretty much humiliate her in front of Megatron," Breakdown supplied as they stepped inside. The room had a few tables set in the center while a countertop ran around the perimeter of the space; appropriate seating at each surface. There were four energon banks set apart along the dark, grey walls and receptacles holding containers between them.

"Me?! Humiliate her? How?" the medic objected as he wasted no time grabbing a cube and filling it up to the brim. It had been ages since he'd seen so much energon in one place. The stuff was in such short supply at present, even medical outfits had to ration out their reserves. Breakdown followed suit with his own vessel, listening to Knock Out continue as they sat up at the counter.

"I mean, yes, she was ordered by Megatron to take us out the back way . . . and I, that is to say, we did get away from her to confront him about it . . . I guess a top sniper losing an unarmed medic probably doesn't look good in front of the boss … then there's the whole promotion in one solar cycle thing . . . okay, I see your point," Knock Out conceded as Breakdown looked on in slight amusement at the doctor's attempt to _politely_ guzzle down energon between pauses.

"Glad to hear it, cause you might want to try getting along with this squad better than the last one, you know, considering Megatron basically called you a coward and all," Breakdown stated nonchalantly before taking a swig of his ration. Knock Out gave the warrior an impressive side glare before setting down his empty glass, placing the elbow joint of his left arm on the counter, and resting his chin upon the open servo in thought.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Say, it looks like you know this Rampart fella pretty good, so that's a start, right?"

"Well, sort of; maybe," Breakdown stated cautiously, something disagreeing in his tone, "but I think Duststorm may hold more sway. She was the one accompanying Lord Megatron after all," he advised. Knock Out shuttered his optics a few times, hoping that wasn't true, before lifting his helm suddenly.

"Hey, Megatron isn't on this ship too, is he?" he asked just as abruptly.

"No, he and Soundwave are probably headed back for the main battle lines. I think the front is moving further north," Breakdown stated. Knock Out visibly relaxed and set his helm back down.

"Oh, good. I mean, do you know anyone else in this outfit?" the medic asked, biting back a yawn at the end. He would have figured getting some energon into his system would have had a rousing effect, but it appeared to be doing the opposite.

"Well, I know the PSF tends to switch up ranks now and again. I think Firebreaker might be here, but I can't say I know him that well . . ." Breakdown mused as he looked to the ceiling trying to recall. Knock Out found the low timbre of his voice to be delightfully soothing. His optics dimmed as the warrior carried on.

"The only reason I know Rampart is because I met him in Kaon after moving up to warrior class with the Decepticons. He's brutal but fair, I guess. He's the one who kind of showed me the ropes," Breakdown said pensively, glancing at the medic. Knock Out had the wherewithal to lift his helm and give Breakdown a small nod to resume, but the reverberation of the ship's engines activating felt invitingly lulling and he dropped right back down. The warrior didn't seem to notice the medic leaning in further than was necessary to listen.

"But he can be a real piston rod. Once, Rampart and I tried to secure a new energon source we found near enemy territory before the Autobots showed up, but of all the lousy timing, a scouting party was coming up our way. There had to be like ten or fifteen Autobot fighters. I was still getting the hang of things back then, but I'll tell you what, I didn't shy away from a fight. As we held our ground, you know what that . . . huh?"

In the middle of his epic account, Breakdown felt a sudden weight on his right arm. He turned to see Knock Out had slid into him, completely dead to the world in recharge.

"Come on, I'm not that boring," the warrior griped, trying to wake the medic by nudging him into an upright position. Knock Out's unfocused optics flickered briefly as he vocalized incoherent protests about fuel distribution. He managed to teeter on consciousness for a klik or two before abruptly slumping down again, showing no signs of getting back up.

Breakdown stared at the resting mech for a moment, thinking about the staggering amount of surgeries the young doctor had just performed. He supposed it was reason enough for the exhaustion until he turned a suspect optic onto the medic's empty energon cube. He slowly, deliberately, placed his half-empty one down.

Suddenly, the automatic doors opened, drawing Breakdown's attention. Rampart stood in the entranceway; his heavily armored body casting a long shadow along the floor. His electric purple optics scanned the room until he spotted the two

"Good, you found it alright!" the fortified fighter quipped as he came in fully, stepping over to the pair. Breakdown shifted in an effort to face Rampart better and, albeit subconsciously, hide the medic from view. The movement did nothing to stir the doctor.

"Yeah, I've gotten a whole lot better at the navigation thing since last you saw me. Helps to know where to find the enemy, right?" Breakdown replied guardedly, using the other mech's words from the past. Despite being able to describe his acquittance with the other warrior as agreeable, Breakdown didn't see it as one based on mutual respect.

Rampart gave a complacent vent.

"Same old, Break. I knew you were fluky, even from the start. What kind of scout gets recognized for finding the wrong target, uh? And, now look atcha . . . Megatron himself puts you on the PSF but I hear it's as some kind of medical assistant now? Real cushy. I don't know if we should change your designation to Lucky Break or Tough Break, huh?" the combatant stated, using the closest wall as support as he leaned his back against it.

"I can't argue that, but I am still pretty good at smashing things too," Breakdown replied, transforming his left servo into a hammer and giving the countertop a good smack for emphasis. If the gesture just so happened to disturb the dozing mech beside him, well, even better.

"It's okay; I'm still billing the patient!" Knock Out blurted as his helm shot up so fast, he nearly slipped from his seat. In an attempt to stay erect, he fanned his arms out along the counter's surface, bumping the energon cubes off to the floor. Both Breakdown and Rampart tilted away from the action, giving Knock Out confused looks as the medic did the same to them. Rampart was the first to recover.

"Were you . . . sleeping?" he directed at the doctor, who was now trying desperately to hold onto dignity as he drew his servos together in a clasped position. He felt there was more at stake here, seeing as he was waking in the company of two Decepticon warriors instead of the supervising physician at Eten's clinic. Stars, did he miss home.

"Ah, just a quick power down to clear my sensors. All those surgical procedures must have left me a bit fatigued, but I'm fine now. Great energon, by the way. Doesn't have that . . ." Knock Out paused as he glanced down at Breakdown's spilled fuel before looking back up with a sheepish grin, "polymer taste."

"Huh? I can see why you rushed him off now, Break," Rampart stated directing a quirked optic ridge at the medic who decided it might be a good time to change the subject.

"Anyway, I'm guessing we're already headed towards Uraya, correct?"

"Yes," Rampart answered, half between skepticism and amusement. Knock Out leaped off his stool, taking care to avoid stepping in the puddle, and proceeded to pull out a celluloid cleaning cloth from his subspace. He didn't like the fact Rampart was yet another mech who wore a mouthguard, but he assumed by the fighter's tone the focus had been successfully shifted.

"Great! I can't wait to meet the rest of the team. Give me a moment to clean this up and we'll be on our way," the doctor said as he dropped the material and watched it flutter over the mess.

Breakdown turned in his seat to face the other two. He was becoming a master at the incredulous helm shake. Knock Out never ceased to amaze him when it came to the ability to recover from awkward situations so smoothly. It was a gift he'd wished he had ages ago, but he also knew it was something that wouldn't escape Rampart's attention either, but for entirely different reasons.

"No problem, _Conk Out_. I'm sure everyone will be _charged_ to meet you, too," Rampart teased as he pushed off the wall to walk in behind the pair. Breakdown began to unconsciously wring his servos together. He knew Knock Out would respond, but the medic didn't know this mech like he did. Once Rampart found a sore spot in someone, he always kept that ammunition ready.

Knock Out stopped swirling the energon around with his pede and narrowed his optics. Obviously, his faux pas wasn't so easily dismissed.

"It's Knock Out!. . ." he started before catching Breakdown's anxiety-ridden expression. Under certain circumstances, the medic probably would have taken heed of this, but in this case, he rolled his optics. Really?. . . What was Breakdown so worried about? He knew what he was doing.

"But, what's the difference, am I right, Slampart?" the doctor purred, adding a chuckle at the end for good measure as he turned to face the gold-and-grey mech. To Breakdown's amazement, Rampart let out a robust laugh. It made him suspicious, but his old mentor kept the good-humored tone

"You know what? I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Knock Out, but you'll have to try harder than that if you want to endear yourself to the rest of the crew," the armored fighter stated plainly.

Knock Out looked momentarily surprised before sighing resignedly. He really must be that easy to read among these military types. Who knew? Still, he was mingling well enough now to use it to his advantage and use it to the full he would.

"That so, hmm? And who else might I need to endear myself most to, if you catch my meaning?" the doctor asked shrewdly.

"I think you've already left an impression with one of them," Rampart answered while giving Breakdown a conspicuous wink. Once again, the blue warrior shook his helm despairingly as he made the connection immediately.

"Really!? When?" the medic—not quite as quick—asked; though, in his defense, he was tired. Still, it didn't take long.

"Wait . . . no . . . you mean Duststorm?!" Knock Out squawked, forgetting about the mess on the floor and his poise. Rampart's optics brightened in genuine mirth.

"That's Lieutenant Commander Duststorm," he stated smartly.

"Well, scrap," the medic said miserably before adding in a more carefree tone, "I guess you can't win 'em all over."

"Knock Out," Breakdown stated warningly. He knew there had to be a catch to Rampart's jovial demeanor, there always was. He received a huffy look from the medic for his trouble.

"What? I didn't know she went off and became some junior captain of a Decepticon warship. The last time I spoke with Storm was when she still ran hits for the Syndicate in Kalis," Knock Out pronounced with a shrug.

"Yeah, back when you were just another fall-from-grace sob-story trying to scratch out a living among us criminal types and, yet, here we are," a voice said from the entranceway. All three mechs turned to face Duststorm as she strode in; heeled boot-like pedes rapping along the floor as she did so. The femme's gaze was unexpectedly calm but firmly fixed on the medic.

Breakdown sighed. And there was the catch.

Knock Out just stared back at her, features reflecting equal composure. He knew his well-being rested on not antagonizing her any further, but his wounded pride wouldn't allow him to cow down completely either.

"Well, then it looks like we both did very nicely for ourselves, Lieutenant Commander Duststorm, and I hope to carry that same success forward with _our_ mission to Uraya," he stated respectfully, giving a slight bow and instantly regretting it as his balance teetered with fatigue. The sniper came to stop right in front of the medic.

"Good," she replied simply; a small sneer curling up her faceplates.

"Wonderful," he responded back; a forced smirk adorning his.

Breakdown and Rampart exchanged looks of differing uncertainty as both Duststorm and Knock Out's frames increasingly tensed. It looked as if the two were in a standoff of some kind, but it wasn't clear to either warrior as to why. Rampart finally decided he didn't care.

"Enough with the drama," he cut in, breaching the two smaller cybertronians' attention on each other, "If you're not going to fight, I have a ship to run . . ."

Breakdown started.

"Wait?! You mean, you're in charge here!?" he exclaimed; his disbelief palpable. Knock Out's less than subtle fist pump of triumph didn't go unnoticed either.

"Well, don't sound too happy, Break," Rampart said with burning sarcasm, causing the medic to pause in what he thought was a victory. Why was Breakdown sounding so worried? Why did Duststorm look downright scandalized? Before he could say anything, however, the gold-and-grey mech continued.

"I'm only temporarily captaining this flying heap until we reach Uraya. I prefer my treads on the ground, where the action is. Switchblade will take over from there once we arrive."

"In my opinion, it can't happen soon enough," Duststorm growled, turning slightly to face the exit. At that moment, Rampart was wickedly inspired.

"You know what, Knock Out?"

The red mech nearly jumped at the frosty mention of his name. The frame of reference he had for this towering combatant was beginning to shift from possible advantage to dangerous drawback.

"Yes?" he said uncertainly.

"Forget the mess, I'll have someone else clean it up. You and Breakdown follow the Lieutenant here. She'll help you dust off our sickbay. And, Duststorm, since it appears you've already agreed to help with the success of their mission, I don't see why you can't lead it up; help our newest asset get battle-ready as Lord Megatron asked," he stated. Duststorm recoiled at the remark.

"What?!" the femme shouted as she spun around and faced the provisional commander, "You can't dump the entire responsibility of this disaster on me . . ."

"Uh-uh, I can assign any task I want to anyone I want. Remember, Lieutenant, you're still in that trial run period and I'd hate to see how far your pretty little helm would roll compared to some of the other so-called ruthlessly efficient warriors I've seen," Rampart said coldly.

Duststorm's optics flashed in challenging anger, but her vocalizer practiced submissive restraint.

"Yes, Commander. Come with me, fellas," she said calmly, turning to advance out of the room. Knock Out gave the whole scene one more look of trepidation before, unexpectedly, bolting out after her. Breakdown stood with Rampart a moment longer as if considering something. Finally, the blue warrior shifted.

"You haven't changed much either, Commander Rampart. See you around, sir," he said before stepping forward to follow the others. Down the hall, he spotted the medic and sniper caught up in another stalemate of sorts, though, instead of an atmosphere of hostility, it appeared to be one of mutual regard.

"Please, tell me this isn't like the Fusion," he heard Knock Out ask as he approached the two.

"It's even worse when the coups are a free-for-all," Duststorm replied spitefully, before turning an unhappy optic on the medic, "you really should have just followed me out the back way."

"Dare I ask why that is?" Knock Out questioned as he frettingly glanced up at Breakdown. Duststorm's despondency twisted into a forbidding smirk.

"Don't misunderstand, I'm still steamed you managed to impress Lord Megatron so easily, but he had you pegged so well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knock Out protested; his apprehension chased away by his ego.

"It means, hotshot, that he knew you wouldn't listen to me or Onslaught. He told us as much. It also means he genuinely expects both of you to succeed at this."

"Really?" Knock Out and Breakdown asked in unified astonishment.

"Yes, and Rampart believes failure will result in the termination of you and anyone else associated with the botch up," she stated, giving them a pointed look. The blue warrior wasn't fazed.

"Well, we just won't fail then, right, Knock Out?" he said confidently, turning to the stock-still medic. There was no response. Duststorm folded her arms in amusement while Breakdown undid his in concern.

"Um, Knock Out?" he tried again. The doctor finally winced.

"Uh-huh, the ship hasn't taken off yet, has it?" he voiced meekly.

"Sorry about your luck, Hard Knocks," Duststorm smiled, drawing a scowl from the mech at the use of the nickname, "But your fortunes are about to change. Come on, let's head to the sparring room."

"And why would we be heading there instead of sickbay?" Knock Out inquired as he and Breakdown began to follow Duststorm down the corridor. She raised an open servo in a gesture of explanation.

"If I'm the one who has to get your sorry aft battle-ready, I need to see what I'm dealing with."


End file.
